


Nerve Endings

by Phyona



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, European Figure Skating Championships, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Possessive Katsuki Yuuri, Post-Canon, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Sickfic, Sugar Daddy Victor, Switching, Virgin Katsuki Yuuri, crying sex, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 74,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phyona/pseuds/Phyona
Summary: When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri's anxiety and Victor's secrets to find their balance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna' be honest, a lot of Yuuri's anxiety in here is based off my own. Write what you know, I guess. 
> 
> Regardless, I worked through my shit, and Yuuri will too. Aka I promise a happy ending, and ever-increasing fluffiness.
> 
> PS: Yuri!!! On Ice might be my all time favorite thing of all time.

[ ](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/155652609225/nerve-endings-by-phyona-when-yuuri-moves-in#notes)

( [click to reblog art on tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/155652609225/nerve-endings-by-phyona-when-yuuri-moves-in#notes))

* * *

**ACT ONE**

 

Yuuri stepped over the threshold into Victor’s flat, startling when the door shut behind him.

“What do you think?”  To anyone else Victor would sound confident, almost boastful, but Yuuri knew him better than that.

“It’s nice,” he said.  “Big.  Open, I mean.”

A smile spread across Victor’s face, making his eyes crinkle at the edges.  

“Yes, there’s plenty of room for you, since I know you need your space sometimes.  There’s no onsen obviously, but I do have a great shower.  Good water pressure.  Can I take your suitcase?  Are you hungry?  I made sure the kitchen was fully stocked.  Did you get any sleep on the flight?”

Victor was rambling, and judging by his wince, he knew it.  It was nice for Yuuri to not be the nervous one in their relationship for a change.

“I’m fine.  Just show me where I can put my things.” 

Victor’s mouth snapped shut with a click.  A high blush painted his cheeks and ears, and Yuuri wondered if he was flushed from the cold, or something else.

After they removed their coats and shoes, Victor led Yuuri through the living room, past the kitchen and through an open door. 

The bedroom was sparsely decorated, save a few framed pictures of Makkachin and a withered cactus by a broad window.  The bed was enormous and swathed in fluffy, neutral-colored damask.  It was perfectly made, which told Yuuri that Victor either had a maid, or he’d cleaned in preparation for Yuuri’s arrival.

Yuuri took it in, freezing when realization struck.

“Is this your bedroom?”  He already knew the answer.

“Yes.”

“So…you want me to put my stuff in your bedroom?”

Victor looked down at the floor, his hair tumbling across his eyes.  He linked his hands behind his back, which pulled his shirt tight across his toned chest.  It was distracting.

“We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Yes, but—“

“And there’s a walk-in closet, so your clothes will fit.”

“That’s not what I’m—“

“And I prefer sleeping with you,” Victor said.

His words hung in the air, making Yuuri’s ears burn.

“But there’s a spare bedroom if you want it,” Victor added, his shoulders drooping.

Yuuri didn’t speak long enough that Victor glanced up at him.  He was frowning.  The look mirrored his expression in a Barcelona hotel room a few weeks past, when Yuuri had made him cry.  Yuuri wondered how long it had been since Victor cried before that night.  Was it years?  Decades?

“Okay.”  He heard his voice as though it had come from someone else’s mouth.  “I’ll stay in here.”

In an instant, the frown was gone, replaced with a brilliant grin.

“Great!  I’ll make you a sandwich,” Victor said, prancing from the room.

 

 

That evening found Yuuri on Victor’s couch after they’d finished dinner.  Victor plopped down beside him and splayed his legs over Yuuri’s lap.  Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat, his hands clenching into fists.

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked.

Yuuri wasn’t sure.  He’d been more intimate with Victor than anyone in the past year, but somehow it felt more intense now, risky.  They were on Victor’s home turf, where everything was familiar to him and foreign to Yuuri.  And while they’d spoken every day since their parting, it was overwhelming to be together again.

What if he messed up?  What if he made Victor not want him anymore?

What if moving to Russia was a mistake?

“Yuuri?”  A warm hand closed over his shoulder, and he jumped.

“Sorry!  I was just…I’m just jet-lagged.”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Bed.  Meaning _Victor’s_ bed.  The word made anxiety and anticipation blossom. 

“Sure.”

Yuuri followed Victor to the bathroom where they brushed their teeth, side by side at the dual sinks.  It was obvious at every turn how much more money Victor had than Yuuri, how much more successful he was.  How he was out of Yuuri’s league.

“Let’s take this off,” Victor said once they were standing in his bedroom.  Yuuri had no idea how long he’d been staring blankly ahead, frozen, but reality came back to him in a rush when Victor started tugging his shirt up.

“I can do it,” Yuuri stammered, covering Victor’s hands with his own to stop him.  Victor looked into his eyes, a slight furrow in his brow.  The scrutiny made the back of Yuuri’s neck prickle.

Victor turned and walked towards the side of the bed, stripping fluidly as he went until he was down to tight black briefs.  He flipped back the covers, got in, and called for Makkachin, who rushed in and jumped up onto the mattress.  He curled into a ball at Victor’s feet. 

Yuuri was unable to move.  He looked down at his hands, still gripping the hem of his shirt.

“Get in, Yuuri.  It’s cold.”

With a deep breath, Yuuri battled back his anxiety, and lifted his shirt over his head.  He didn’t look at Victor as he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the floor. 

When he slid between the sheets, which were the softest he’d ever felt, he folded his hands on his lap, and sat rigidly against the pillows.

Slowly, as though not to spook him, Victor rested his palm over Yuuri’s knuckles.  The gold band on his finger glinted.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he said.  “I missed you.  Very much.”

“I missed you too.”  He paused.  “Sorry I’m acting weird.”

“You’re not acting weird.  I’m sure this is a lot to take in.”

“It wasn’t like this for you when you moved to Hasetsu.  And you didn’t even know me then.”

Victor chuckled, a slight breath of air.

“I was desperate for a change.”

Yuuri filed that statement away for later.  So much of Victor was still an enigma.  It was frightening how little he knew of Victor’s past, of his motivations.

Perhaps he should have waited a little longer before putting a ring on his finger.

“Come on,” Victor said, taking hold of his shoulder and easing him down, until Yuuri was lying on his back.  Victor sidled up close to him.  He hooked a leg over his and tucked his face into the side of Yuuri’s neck, his arm resting across his belly.

Yuuri was completely stiff.  He stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Victor seemed to be waiting for him to relax, and when that didn’t happen, he pushed up on his elbow.  With a finger on his chin, he made Yuuri look him in the eye.

“If you want to sleep in the other room, I understand.”

“No!  No, I’m fine.”  He flinched at how loudly he’d spoken, but Yuuri knew if he left the room now, it was the beginning of the end.  Victor was not a patient person.  There was no way he’d stick around if Yuuri couldn’t even sleep next to him, let alone _with_ him.

And, in truth, he didn’t want to leave Victor’s side.  Every day they’d been apart had felt empty and long and cold.

Victor gazed at him, scrutinizing.  Yuuri swallowed.

“Turn over,” Victor said.  His tone matched the one he used when coaching, and Yuuri complied.

It was hard to put his back to Victor, and he clenched his fists on the sheets, anticipation making his stomach churn.  What was Victor going to do? 

His thoughts returned, as they often did, to the night after the Exhibition skate.  They’d been so keyed up, so attuned to each other, taking the next step was inevitable.  Dancing together on the ice as a pair was unlike anything he’d experienced before.  It felt like making love, so when Victor put his hand down Yuuri’s pants in their hotel room after, it was easier to ignore his anxiety. 

The two glasses of champagne he’d consumed at the banquet didn’t hurt either.

But now was different.  This wasn’t some adrenaline-charged hand job in a hotel room.  They were _living_ together.  He was in Victor’s bed, in nothing but their underwear, totally sober.  What if he was bad at this?  Would Victor lose interest?

He flinched at the first stroke of Victor’s hand on his back, so worked up that he was practically panting.

But the touch was light, gentle.

Victor’s long, skilled fingers traced across the skin of his back.  The contact sent tingles through Yuuri like starbursts, relaxing his muscles with precision and ease.  Victor alternated between scratching deliciously down his spine, to making his caress feather-light, nothing but a sweet graze of nerves.

It wasn’t long before Yuuri was boneless.  He hadn’t been lying about the jetlag, and it was evident that Victor had no intention of keeping him awake for a night of hardcore sex.

He barely noticed when Victor removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table, or when a strong arm draped over his waist and tugged him close against a firm body.

A kiss was pressed into the nape of his neck.

“Goodnight, Yuuri.”

“Goodnight,” he mumbled. 

He let the warmth of Victor’s body pull him into sleep.

 

 

Yuuri came back into consciousness in gradual steps.  At first, he had no idea where he was, but he was comfortable, and warm, and cradled.

He twitched and someone grumbled behind him, squeezing him closer.

Victor.

Yuuri was wide awake in an instant, the reality of his position washing over him in sudden, acute detail. 

Victor’s hand was spread low on his belly, the tips of fingers tucked under the band of Yuuri’s briefs.  His mouth was pressed to the back of Yuuri’s neck, his body a plane of muscle, slotted against him.

And then there was something he almost couldn’t bear to acknowledge: the insistent hardness against his rear.  Yuuri was both appalled and deeply, inexplicably aroused.  With horror, he realized he was also swelling between his legs, as if his body couldn’t help but respond.

He had to get away.  Fast.

“Mmm, Yuuri,” Victor groaned, snuffling his hair and grinding against him in one slow thrust.

Yuuri just about leapt from the bed.  He was on his feet so quickly that Victor didn’t wake up, merely turned onto his back and sprawled out, an unhappy pucker in his brow.  Makkachin shot Yuuri a scathing dog-glare before going back to sleep.

Dressing as clandestinely as he could, Yuuri fled the room.  Once he was in the living room, however, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

He decided that fresh air was the best thing for him, or at least preferable to sitting on the couch and staring at the wall until Victor woke up.  It wasn’t so early that a few coffee shops wouldn’t be open, and Victor always seemed to enjoy coffee.  Maybe he could bring him some in bed.

With his coat on and scarf wrapped about his neck, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s key off the counter and made his way to the street.

There were some people on the sidewalks, but not so many that Yuuri felt overwhelmed as he sometimes did in big cities.  The early morning light was pleasant, and he meandered until the cold bit at his ears and nose.  He ducked into a coffee shop and ordered tea for himself and coffee for Victor in English, but he probably could have managed in Russian.

Though he got to-go cups, he found a chair by the window and sipped his tea to warm up.  He decided he liked St. Petersburg.  For a while he let himself get lost in fantasies of cafe dates with Victor, of going to see ballets or visit art galleries when they weren’t practicing. 

By the time he went back out into the cold he was smiling, flushed with the prospects of his future.  Maybe he was letting his anxiety get the better of him when it came to Victor.  After all, his coach had never pushed him into something he couldn’t handle.

It took him a while to find his way back to Victor’s flat since he'd taken a few wrong turns.  Victor’s coffee had gone cold, and the wind had kicked up.  Yuuri was glad he’d gotten a proper winter coat in Detroit.

He sprinted up the stairs to Victor’s door, and fiddled with the key in the lock.  He was about to grab the nob when the door swung open, Victor standing before him.

His hair was rumpled, his eyes wide and nose flushed.  Makkachin woofed from behind him, whole body wiggling with the wag of his tail.

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed.

Yuuri frowned at him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“I didn’t know where you went.”

“Oh.  Sorry, I went for a walk.  I got you some coffee,” he said, handing the cup to Victor.  “It’s gone cold by now, though, so you probably want to heat it—“

Victor threw his arms around Yuuri, knocking the wind out of him and almost sending the coffee to the floor.  Yuuri blinked, stunned.  By the time he realized he should reciprocate the hug, Victor was pulling away.

“I’ll put it in the microwave,” Victor said tightly, taking the cup from Yuuri and striding to the kitchen. 

Yuuri shook his head, unsure of what had just happened, and took off his coat, scarf, and shoes.  When he made his way to the kitchen, Victor was just pulling his coffee out of the microwave, now in a mug with poodles printed on it.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, walking up to the counter.  “You didn’t think I’d left, did you?  Like, permanently?”

Victor paused in bringing the mug to his lips.

“No, I knew all your things were still here.  I just had a dream, and I didn’t know if I’d really…it doesn’t matter.”

Yuuri frowned.  He wanted to pursue the subject, but could recognize a deflection when he saw it.  He was, after all, the master of them.

“I really like the city so far,” he said.  Victor’s face lit up.

“I’m happy to hear it.  I’ll take you around later, if you want.  I was thinking, maybe we could go to the ballet sometime, before practices get too intense.”

Yuuri smiled.

“Yes, I would like that.”

“Do you want some breakfast?  I can make you eggs if you want.”

Yuuri looked down at his hands.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked.  A pause.

“Am I not usually nice to you?”

“No, you are.  It just feels different now.”

Yuuri heard the clink of Victor’s mug on the counter before Victor’s bare feet came into his eye-line.  Victor hooked his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and tilted his head up.

“It is,” he said.

His eyes were piercing, striking as they always were to Yuuri.  He swallowed, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Why?”

Victor’s other hand found his waist.  He stepped closer.  Yuuri could smell mint and coffee on his breath.

“Do you not know?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

Victor’s hand moved from his side to his arm, sliding down his wrist until he found the band on Yuuri’s finger.  He spun it once, purposeful, and wove his fingers through Yuuri’s.

“I don’t know what I'm supposed to do,” Yuuri said.  He winced at how pathetic he sounded.

“Neither do I.”

It was strange, but hearing Victor admit he wasn’t as confident and all-knowing as he seemed to be helped.  It helped a lot.

“How about this,” Victor said.  “I would like to kiss you, and then I want to make you breakfast, and sit on the couch with you and Makkachin, and watch some TV.  Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, breathless.

Victor didn’t hesitate.  He locked their lips together, gentle and soft.  He was warm where Yuuri was cold from the wind.  Their mouths were closed for one kiss, two, then Yuuri opened for him, unable to help himself.  Victor didn’t use his tongue.  He didn’t need to.  Warmth burst in Yuuri’s chest and down his spine, and he felt a twitch in his pants, a sudden pressure.

His hands found Victor’s chest, and he gripped his shirt to tether himself.  A soft whine escaped his throat, and it was _him_ who slid his tongue into Victor’s mouth.  Victor made a startled noise and his hands flew to the sides of Yuuri’s neck.  He angled his head, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue back against Yuuri’s. 

Dizziness spread through Yuuri’s head like a fever.  He stepped closer, pushing his body, his hips, against Victor, who jerked at the contact.

He felt like he was barreling down a hill, catching momentum so quickly he didn’t have time to think.  The pressure in his pants swelled, and he felt Victor’s response against his hip through his thin, designer pajama pants.  The idea that he’d done that to Victor wasn’t as scary as it had been that morning.  Quite the opposite.  It ignited something in Yuuri, as a spark in kindling.

To his great surprise, it was Victor who pulled away.

With two hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, Victor held him at arm’s length, as though he couldn’t stand to have him any closer.

“Yuuri,” he panted, lips swollen and pink.  His hair had fallen across his eye, his pale skin rosy.  “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

His words were a douse of cold water.  They cut through his arousal, his found confidence, right to the core of his fear.  He didn’t have any idea what he was doing.  He was bad at this, inexperienced, embarrassing.

He staggered back, making Victor’s hands fall from his shoulders.

“I need to take a shower,” he announced, voice high-pitched, manic.  He hated the sound of it.  He fled from the room, leaving Victor behind and not hearing whatever it was his coach said.

Rushing into the bedroom, _Victor’s_ bedroom, not his own, he grabbed his toiletries and a change of clothes from his suitcase and locked himself in the adjacent bathroom.

He turned on the shower for the noise, but didn’t step into the spray.  Instead, he leaned back against the door and sunk to the ground.  Burying his face in his hands, he tried to calm down. 

The cold ring on his finger seemed more present than ever.  It taunted him.

He didn’t know if he could do this.

 

* * *

^This is the reference I used for Victor's swanky apartment.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor, you butt. How dare you phrase things in a less-than-perfect way to a person with anxiety.
> 
> \- Me, as I side-eye my own stupid anxiety for taking LITERALLY EVERYTHING THE WRONG WAY
> 
> PS: Merry Victor's Birthday Eve!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you like Carrie Fisher loved Gary. Sad, sad day.

After a long, hot shower, Yuuri felt much better.  Bathing had always cleared his head, which was convenient considering his parents’ livelihood.

He suspected he might have overreacted a little.  It was perfectly fair for Victor to say he lacked experience, because he did, but the more Yuuri replayed the kiss in his head, the less he believed that was what Victor meant.

The kiss had been electric, at least for him.  Yuuri may not have much context, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t terrible.  And clearly Victor saw something in Yuuri’s “eros” or he wouldn’t have given him that short program.

Unfortunately, he’d just abandoned Victor in the kitchen without warning or courtesy.  As he put on his clothes in the steamy bathroom, he hoped Victor wasn’t mad.  He brushed his teeth and fiddled with his hair.

“Victor?” he said, easing open the door, half-expecting him to be sitting on the bed.

Makkachin was curled up on the comforter, napping, but Victor wasn’t there.

Yuuri crept into the living room and called Victor’s name again.  There was no reply.

A note on the refrigerator caught his eye.

 _Went out.  Wanted to give you space.  Please help yourself to anything you like. -_ _Виктор_

An ache pulsed in Yuuri’s throat.  He hadn’t wanted Victor to leave, not when they’d only just reunited after several weeks apart. 

He dug his phone out of his backpack and turned it on.  A deluge of messages pinged from his mother, Phichit, Yuuko, and more, all asking how his arrival in Russia went.  He vowed to respond to them later, and brought up his messages from Victor.

 _Can’t wait to see you_ , was the last one he’d received.  Yuuri shut his eyes and took a deep breath, praying he hadn’t ruined everything.

 _Please come back_ , he texted.  _I’m sorry._

He sat on the couch and stared at his phone, foot tapping, and waited for Victor’s reply.  He lasted about ten minutes before he decided to answer his other messages.  A ball of nerves had settled in his chest.  Victor usually replied to texts from him within minutes.  Was he being ignored?

Yuuri brought up Instagram once he’d finished his obligatory string of “yes, I’m alive” responses.  He twitched when the first post on his feed was a video of Victor.  It had been recorded by Mila. 

He was skating a routine that Yuuri had never seen before.  It was clearly still in early stages, but it took Yuuri’s breath away.  Every movement was steeped in elegance and passion, vulnerability and devotion.  Yuuri had never seen Victor skate anything like it before.

Yuuri was comforted that Victor hadn’t replied to him because he was occupied skating, and not out of spite.  He could sympathize with the need for the ice when things were unpleasant, though he still felt guilty for being the cause.

Yuuri’s stomach growled, reminding him that he had yet to eat breakfast.  He went in the kitchen to get some fruit and wait for Victor to return.

About half an hour later, Yuuri’s phone chimed with a message from Victor.

 _Be home soon_.

Home.  As in _their_ home.  Heat bloomed in Yuuri’s cheeks. 

When the lock clicked and the front door creaked open, Yuuri sprung to his feet and straightened his shirt. 

Victor’s eyes found him quickly.  His face was flushed, a bag with his skating gear swung over his shoulder.  Makkachin rushed to him and received a few distracted pats on the head.

“Yuuri,” he said. 

“Victor, I—“

“Hold on.  Let me put my stuff down before you say anything.”

Yuuri shut his mouth and nodded as Victor dropped his bag and shed his outerwear. 

He approached Yuuri with cautious steps, his hands splayed, placating.

“I want you to know you misunderstood what I said.”

“I figured I might have.”

“Did you?  Because I often think you’re a bit clueless when it comes to me.”

Yuuri flinched. 

“Oh.”

“See, like right now.  You’re assuming the worst.”

“…maybe.”

“When all I’m trying to do is tell you what you do to me.”

“What do I do to you?”

Victor stepped closer.  He reached out to touch his face, but aborted the movement and let his arm fall to his side.  Yuuri hated it, so he reached out himself, gripping the front of Victor’s shirt in his fists.  Tension bled from Victor’s shoulders, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Anything you want.  You have the power to do anything you want to me.”

His words left Yuuri frozen, his mind blank.  His mouth opened and closed several times.  How could he have power over Victor Nikiforov, his hero, who was arguably the greatest male figure skater of all time?  Sure, Yuuri had broken one of his records, but that was as much a credit to Victor’s coaching as it was to him.  It just didn’t make sense.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” Victor said. 

“Neither have I,” Yuuri replied, finding his voice.  He didn’t add that he’d been in love with Victor since he was twelve.  There had never been anyone else.

He had a brief moment of regret that he hadn’t let Victor tell him about his ex-partners when he’d first come to Hasetsu.  The whole of Victor’s past personal life was clouded to him, and yet he was too timid to ask about it.

“Do you still want to watch TV with me and Makkachin?” Yuuri asked.

Victor stared at him.  There was something in his eyes that Yuuri couldn’t place, hooded emotion that seemed both soft and edged.

“Yes.”

Ignoring his fear, Yuuri went up on his toes and kissed the corner of Victor’s mouth.  Victor inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating.

“I should take a shower first,” Victor said, looking slightly dazed.

“Oh, right, you were skating.  I saw a video Mila posted.”

Victor blinked.

“What did you think?”

“Of your new routine?  I’ve never seen you do anything like it.”

A grin spread across Victor’s face, as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

 

 

It was easier that night to get in bed with Victor.  Yuuri was relaxed and warm, having watched several hours of food travel television on the couch, his head on Victor’s shoulder and a blanket wrapped around them.  He’d been stiff at first, but Victor had let Yuuri come to him, which he did eventually, during a segment about American diners. 

“Can I touch you?” Victor asked once they were both lying on their sides, facing each other.

Yuuri swallowed and nodded.

Victor slid closer to him.  His fingers grazed the edge of Yuuri’s jaw, settling on his pulse point.

Tentatively, Yuuri reached up and returned the touch.  Victor sighed, his eyes easing shut.

“Victor.”  When Victor’s eyes opened and found his, Yuuri took a deep breath, and set his resolve.  “I want…I think we should…why don’t we…let’s make out.”

Yuuri winced, scrunching up his face. 

After a silence, Yuuri eased open one eye to see Victor’s expression.  He found him smiling, soft and impossibly fond.

“I love making out,” he said.

Once Yuuri had set his glasses on the nightstand, Victor closed the distance between them.  He paused when his mouth was a hairsbreadth from Yuuri’s.  Eyes asking for permission, he gave Yuuri a last chance to back out.

A part of him wanted to, was terrified of messing this up.  He ignored it, and sealed their lips together.

At first, they barely touched but it still made Yuuri’s skin tingle.  The taste of Victor was intoxicating, as though it was engineered to set his nerves on fire.  It was sweet and strange, both familiar and intrinsically foreign. 

Victor cupped the back of his head, and Yuuri found himself drawn closer, though Victor applied no pressure.  On impulse, Yuuri slipped his leg between Victor’s knees and wrapped his arm around his back. 

A groan reverberated against his lips when their hips slotted together.  The sound did something to Yuuri, filled him with a sudden rush of confidence and lust and power.  The idea that he could affect his idol this way, could reduce him to something base and needy, was heady.  He fantasized that he was the only one in the world who could do this to Victor, a man who was notoriously controlled. 

Yuuri deepened the kiss.  He wove his fingers into Victor’s fine hair, tugging.  Every whine, every little groan he wrung from his coach fanned the fire inside him.

He began to lose himself to the slick taste of Victor on his lips, to the strong contours of the body in his arms.  Nipping Victor’s bottom lip, he scratched his nails down Victor’s bare back to the elastic of his briefs.  He tucked his fingers beneath it.  Victor jerked.

“Yuuri,” he breathed between kisses.  He was shaking.  “I don’t want to push you too far.” 

Yuuri was a little irritated by that.  He was doing well, damnit.  He wasn’t as fragile as Victor made it sound.

Licking into his mouth, Yuuri aimed to remind Victor just who was the one quivering between the two of them.  With a push, he tipped Victor onto his back and climbed on top of him.  He felt drunk, reckless, but Victor was tense beneath him.

“Yuuri, please,” he said.  Yuuri’s mouth went to Victor’s neck.  He sucked, pressing his thigh between Victor’s legs and the bulge growing there.  “Yuuri, if you don’t stop I—“

Victor broke off into a moan when Yuuri grinded against him.  His head tipped back, exposing the long column of his throat.  Pushing his hips down, Yuuri dragged their groins together in a rough slide.

Two firm hands grabbed him by the biceps and flipped him on his back in one swift move.  For a fleeting moment, Yuuri waited for Victor to climb on top of him.  When he didn’t, Yuuri’s anxiety spiked. 

Victor was staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling erratically. 

“V-Victor?”

“You said you just wanted to make out,” Victor gritted.

“Is that not what we were doing?”

Victor looked at him.

“No, Yuuri.  That was not what we were doing.”

Heat rose to Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Meaning…because you…”

Victor glanced down at his straining briefs suggestively.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  In fact, if you’ll excuse me…”  Victor sat up and made to leave the bed, but Yuuri grabbed him by the wrist.

“You don’t have to.”

“I assure you, I really, really do.”

“No, I mean you…you don’t need to leave.”

Victor stared at him.  Yuuri started to sweat.  He was about to take it back when Victor spoke.

“Are you sure?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you like that.”

“Ha, I was almost beginning to think you didn’t remember.”

Yuuri flinched.  He looked away, picking at a stray thread on the sheets.  His confidence drained out of him as though a crack had formed.  He felt his lack of clothing with sudden acuity, and wished he’d left at least his shirt on.

“I remember.  So I shouldn’t have any problem with it.”

Exhaling, Victor shook his head.  He looked like he was rallying himself through some internal debate. 

“No.  We can't yet.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was because he was full of adrenaline, or sensitive from the jetlag, or just raw from how intimate they’d been, but he felt the familiar prickle of tears.

“Fine,” he said, turning away from Victor and curling up on his side.

“Yuuri—“

“Just go, I don’t care.”

Victor exhaled behind him, and Yuuri squeezed his eyes tight, desperate for him to leave the room.  Regret filled him.  He’d wanted to see Victor come apart, wanted to be the reason, but Victor didn’t think he could handle it.  It was humiliating.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, startling him into opening his eyes.  Victor had rounded the bed and was kneeling on the floor right in front of him.  He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Yuuri’s ear.

“I thought you were leaving to take care of your…uh…”  He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“I don’t need to do that anymore,” Victor said wryly.  Yuuri felt a stab of inferiority, of failure.

“I’m sorry.”

“You are very complicated, do you know that?”

Yuuri blinked.

“Am I?”

“Oh yes.  Every time I think I’m starting to get you, you do something to surprise me.”

“Isn’t that what you want?  You always say surprising people is everything.”

“Yes, but not when it means hurting you because I don’t know the right thing to say.”

Yuuri closed his eyes.  A tear snuck out and dripped onto his pillow. 

“I don’t know the right things to say to you either.  Sometimes I think I don’t know you at all.”

Victor’s face fell.

“You know me better than any other person.  Except maybe Yakov, and you comprehend me in ways he never could.”

“Then why does this keep happening?  I want you.”

“I want you too,” Victor said.  He dragged the pad of his thumb across Yuuri’s bottom lip.

“But we just seem so---“

“Out of sync?”

Yuuri nodded.  Victor wove their fingers together.  Their rings met.

“Sometimes I wish we were still in Hasetsu.”

Victor’s expression shuttered.

“Do you not want to be here?” he asked, devoid of emotion.

Yuuri pushed up on his elbow and tilted closer to him.

“I do.  I swear I do.  All I want is to be with you, it doesn’t matter where.”

The corner of Victor’s lip twitched, and some accessibility returned to his eyes.

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“I told you before; I just want you to be yourself.  Stop trying to tip-toe around me, and just meet me where I am.”

Victor looked between his eyes, as if trying to read some hidden motivation.  Yuuri stared back at him, and Victor nodded.

When Victor crawled into bed, it was Yuuri who wrapped around him this time.  He sidled up close and pressed their foreheads together, resting his hand between Victor’s shoulder blades.  He breathed in the scent of him.

“Did you really think I’d forgotten that night?” he whispered.

“Well, you never brought it up.”

“How would I have brought that up?  ‘Oh hey, Victor, remember that time you put your hand down my pants after the Grand Prix Final?  That was fun, wasn’t it?’”  Yuuri blushed fiercely as soon as the words were out.  Victor leered at him.

“It _was_ fun,” he said.  “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“…maybe tomorrow,” Yuuri mumbled. 

Victor kissed him on the tip of his nose.

 

 

Yuuri woke up hard the next morning, flushed with heat. 

He knew it was a result of how keyed-up and unsatisfied he’d been the night before.  Or perhaps because Victor was in his arms, his rear to Yuuri’s groin.

“ _Victor_.”

He nuzzled into the nape of Victor’s neck and whined, squeezing him around the waist.  Still half-asleep, Yuuri was cognizant of little else than the need to relieve the ache.  He couldn't spare time for worry.

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed, nudging his hips back. 

“Want you,” Yuuri said.  “Please.”

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hip, using it to hold him close while he arched against him.  A moan escaped Yuuri’s throat.  It felt like he was dreaming, lost in one of his many lurid fantasies starring Victor Nikiforov over the years, with his beautiful face plastered on Yuuri's bedroom walls.  Yuuri was always competent and demanding in those visions, so he harnessed that feeling, let it prove to him that he could do this.

Then Victor said, “I’m yours.  Do whatever you want."

“I want to…I want to touch myself.” 

“Yeah?” Victor said, squeezing his ass.  Yuuri mouthed at the back of Victor’s neck, letting his teeth drag against the milky skin.

“And I want you to touch yourself, too.”  It was the safest option.  He would have all the control, and while it was a separate act, it was something they could do together.  Intimately.

“I-I can do that.”

With a shaking breath, Yuuri dragged his hand from Victor’s waist and slipped it between their bodies.  He rubbed at himself, conscious of how his knuckles were kneading Victor’s ass in the process. 

Yuuri knew Victor had started to stroke himself because he could feel it in the movement of his arm. 

Curiosity got the better of him, and Yuuri propped himself on his elbow, tucking his chin over Victor’s collarbone to watch.  He gasped when he caught sight of Victor’s hand, stuffed in his briefs and jerking.  It was the most obscene thing he'd ever witnessed up until that point.

“You like watching me?” Victor murmured.  Yuuri did; so much that he found enough bravery to fold over the band of his own underwear and grip himself.  He bit his lip.  It was easier to do this when Victor couldn't see him, and erotic that he could still watch Victor fondle himself.  It almost felt like peeping.  

“Yes.”

“Do you like imagining I’m touching you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you want to see how I’d do it, see how I’d move if it was my hand on you instead?”

“Ah, _yes_.”

Victor pulled himself out, exposing his full length.  Yuuri had never seen someone hard for him before, let alone Victor.  Part of him was a bit stunned, while the other part, the stronger part, felt high with power. 

“I’d draw it out as long as you could take it,” Victor rasped.  In a slow, teasing trace, Victor ran his thumb under the head.  He smeared his thumb over the tip, slicking it, as his belly quivered.  "Until you were desperate for me."

“I already am.”  Yuuri found himself mimicking Victor’s ministrations on himself, so similar that he could almost swear it was Victor’s palm and not his own.  When Victor gripped, so did Yuuri.  When Victor pulled, Yuuri did too.

“You have no idea what desperate is.  Not yet.  I would teach you, coach you, until you learned how to beg for me.”

Yuuri nipped the edge of Victor’s jaw.

“You sound so sure of yourself,” he whispered.  He slid himself up and down the crease of Victor’s ass, watching in satisfaction as Victor’s strokes faltered.  “But you’d be the one begging for me.  You know it, I know it.”  Yuuri felt like the woman from his Eros story, seductive and powerful, in control.  He was not yet himself, and yet he was.  This was a facet of his psyche that he'd only ever explored with Victor.

Victor whimpered.  He curved back against Yuuri, angling his hips like he was asking for something.

“What do you want, Victor?  You keep asking what I want, what I need, but you never say for yourself.”

“I want you.”

“Not specific enough.”

“I-I want to come.”

“You don’t need me to do that.”

Yuuri pulled at himself with new vigor, staring down at Victor as he started to do the same.  Their pace was quick, brutal, rushed. 

Yuuri drank up all the noises Victor made, let them fuel his desire.

“Show me,” Yuuri said.  “Let me see you.”

“I-I’m gonna’—“  With a shudder, Victor spilled over his hand, his mouth falling open.  Yuuri drank in the rare, perfect sight of him, let it draw out every fantasy he’d ever had about the famous skater, flooding him with arousal.

He buried his face in Victor’s shoulder and groaned as his release hit him.  He came all over the back of Victor’s briefs in thick pulses that made his entire body quake.

They both lay panting for some indiscernible length of time. 

“No fair,” Victor said at last.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri mouthed into his skin.

“You got to watch me, but I couldn’t see you.”

“I’m sure I’ll make it up to you.”

Victor looked at him from over his shoulder, and Yuuri tipped back to meet his gaze.

“You can start by doing my laundry.”

Yuuri glanced down at the mess he’d made on Victor’s no-doubt expensive underwear.

“Sorry.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Not really, no.”

Victor smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making baby steps! I got a few more reference images for Victor's apartment, including the real-life pad it's based on and an altered version of it that's apparently on the DVD. Victor now owns a crapton of books, so I will be letting that inform my characterization of him as we go forward.
> 
> I love you like Makkachin loves steamed buns.
> 
> EDIT: The incredible [fem-helios](http://fem-helios.tumblr.com/) drew some fanart inspired by this chapter! Check it out [HERE](http://fem-helios.tumblr.com/post/155451757421/inspired-by-rageofthenerd-story-nerve-endings%20%20). Warning: NSFW.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick as a dog but that doesn't mean I can't write smut, damnit. I have, like, Christophe-level commitment to sexy times here.
> 
> I love you like Chris loves nutting on the ice.

Yuuri lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of Victor’s bedroom.

Victor had bounded from the bed a few moments before under the promise of breakfast.  It was only after some insistence on Yuuri’s part that he’d agreed to put on pajama pants.

“But it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked,” Victor had argued.  “Why can’t I be free in my own flat?”

“I just don’t want you to get burned while you’re cooking.”

That had settled the argument.

Now, without Victor’s exuberant presence, Yuuri was on the precipice of an anxiety chasm.  It gaped before him, ready to pull him down if he allowed himself to analyze what had happened.

He didn’t want to dissect his actions, looking at every single thing he’d said and done with a microscope and highlighting flaws.  But that was what he always did.

He was going to ruin it.  He was going to freak out and push Victor away and maybe this time he wouldn’t come back.

His heart started to flutter, his throat felt like it was swelling.  Sweat beaded on his hairline.

With a jolt, he threw himself from the bed. 

“Victor,” he said, voice tight, as he strode into the kitchen.  “I—“

“Aww, I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed.  And hey, where are your pants?  Why do you get to show off when I—“

“I need help.”

Victor froze in front of the stove, a spatula in his hand.  Immediately his face switched from squinty and playful to calculating.  His eyes swept over Yuuri.

He turned off the gas and slid the skillet to a cool burner.

“Come here,” he said.  His tone was firm, simple.  He sounded like a coach.

With quaking steps, Yuuri found his way to the embrace of familiar arms.  Victor’s cheek pressed against his temple, his hand scratching the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“Thinking too much,” Yuuri said, his breath hitching.  The warmth of Victor’s smooth skin sank into him. 

“About us?”

“About what we…did.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, taking his face in his hands.  He tilted Yuuri’s head up and looked deep into his eyes.  “You were perfect.”

“I was—“

“You were perfect.”  Victor kissed the bridge of his nose.

“It wasn’t bad that I only touched myself and I didn’t—“

“It was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Yuuri blinked.

“But that wasn’t even sex.”

Victor traced his fingers down Yuuri’s neck, to his clavicle and the dip at the base of his throat. 

“Exactly.”  He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s ear.  “That’s what you do to me, Yuuri.  You barely touch me and it’s more than I’ve felt with anyone.  I can’t wait to see more of that side of you, to try new things.  Anything you want.”

A shiver went down Yuuri’s spine. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Why don’t you go put on your glasses and sit on the couch with Makkachin?”

“C-can we take him for a walk today?”

“I’d love to.  Now let me finish these eggs.  Oh, and have you ever tried butterbrots?” 

“Sounds like a pokemon.”

Victor laughed, shaking his head.

 

 

 “So what do you think?” Victor asked, arm slung over Yuuri’s shoulder, as they traveled down a cobblestone street.

“I like it,” Yuuri said for about the fifth time.  He took a sip of his hot tea, letting it warm him against the cold.  Makkachin strolled beside him.  “It’s a neat city.”

Victor had acted as a veritable tour guide as they walked, and while his historical facts were interesting, they weren’t nearly as engaging as the personal anecdotes.  Yuuri drank them up, desperate to know more about the man who wore his ring.

“You look chilly.  Not quite as warm as Hasetsu, huh?”

“No, but I lived in Detroit for five years.  I can handle the cold.”

“I almost forgot.  I wish I’d known you then.”

“I wish you did too.”  Yuuri thought of the posters adorning his dorm room and mentally thanked Phichit for never mentioning them in front of Victor.  He probably would’ve thought he was some kind of crazed fanboy.

He wouldn’t have been wrong.

“Want to head home?” Victor asked when even Makkachin was starting to lag.

Yuuri smiled into his scarf, nodding.

As soon as they were back in the flat, Makkachin scarfed down some water and balled up on his dog bed for a nap.  Yuuri hung his coat and kicked off his shoes, a shiver rattling through him.

“I guess I am a little cold,” he admitted. 

“I’ll warm you up.”

Victor slid his arms around Yuuri’s waist.  He hooked his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Ah!  You’re freezing,” Yuuri squeaked, squirming.  Yuuri tried to pry his hands free, but Victor wouldn’t let go.  He kissed the side of his neck with chilled lips.

“Then you can warm me up too.”

In a devious move, Victor wiggled his hands free and snuck them under Yuuri’s shirt. 

“Ack!  Stop that!”

Yuuri writhed and tried to escape but couldn’t seem to stop giggling.  Soon, Victor was snickering too, and when Yuuri broke free and ran across the living room, Victor chased after him.

They ended up in a stalemate on opposite sides of the couch.  When Victor faked left, Yuuri countered, over and over until they were breathless.  Yuuri’s cheeks hurt from laughing.

“Yuuri, we start practice tomorrow.  As your coach, I order you to stop running.  You’re wasting your energy.”

“You have practice tomorrow too, _coach_.  Why don’t _you_ stop running?”

Yuuri stared at him.  Victor gazed back.

In unison, they slowly straightened.  With careful steps, Yuuri rounded the couch and sank onto it.  Victor did the same, sitting so close their thighs were touching.  Yuuri’s heart pounded.  He was barely able to bite back a smile.

At the exact same moment they tackled each other. 

“This is…inappropriate...behavior for a coach,” Yuuri grit out as they wrestled.  Victor had just gotten him on his back when Yuuri hooked his ankle in just the right way to dislodge him.

“Hardly the most inappropriate thing I’ve done to you,” Victor said, shooting him a salacious wink.  Yuuri blushed, and faltered. 

Pressing his advantage, Victor shoved him into the back of the couch.  He straddled him, pinning his wrists against the cushions.  His eyes were sharp, daring him to break free.

Yuuri relaxed back where he sat. 

“Do you forfeit?” Victor breathed.

“For now.”

“Does that mean you’ll pay me back later?”

Yuuri ran his tongue across his bottom lip.  Victor’s eyes darted down to catch the movement.  His pupils dilated.

“You can count on it.”

“Wow,” Victor said, shaking his head.  “I have no defense against you.”

“I’m not the one pinning you to the couch right now.”

“You might as well be.”

Victor let his hands go, and Yuuri rested them on Victor’s hips.  He pressed his thumbs into the creases at the base of his thighs.

Tipping forward, Victor put their foreheads together.

“You could hurt me so easily,” he whispered.  It was a confession, Yuuri knew, and it cost something for Victor to admit it.  “You have already.  Just the thought of losing you—“

“I’m not going to leave you.”

Victor sighed against his lips.

“I’ve been told that before.”

Alarm bells went off in Yuuri’s head.  Who was Victor referring to?  Was it a parent?  A past lover?  Yuuri knew that Victor didn’t have any family involved in his life from his old internet forums, but Victor was notoriously secretive.  He wanted to ask, desperately, but didn’t want to overstep.

“Not by me,” he said instead.

“Yeah, but you did try to retire without talking to me about it.”

“And how did that work out?”

The corner of Victor’s lip curled.  He pushed their groins together.  Yuuri’s eyelashes fluttered.

“Not very well.  I hope you learned your lesson.”

Yuuri flexed his grip on Victor’s hips, pulling him closer.

“And what lesson is that?”

Bracketing Yuuri’s head between his forearms, Victor rolled his hips.

“That I caught you.  You forfeited.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open.  He arched up, sliding his hands around to grab Victor’s ass.

“I just wanted you to be happy,” he murmured.  “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Fingers wove into his hair and tugged.  Victor nipped his bottom lip.

“So, to make me happy, you tried to take away the one thing in my life that has ever brought me joy?”

“Skating brought you joy.”

“Not like it does now.  Not like anything does with you.”

Yuuri closed his eyes against that statement.  Everything about his relationship with Victor still felt unreal, like it could be taken away in an instant.

Warmth sealed against his lips, and Yuuri’s eyes flew open.  Victor pulled back the instant Yuuri went stiff.

“Sorry,” he whispered.  “I can’t tell you how hard it is to keep from kissing you sometimes.”

Yuuri held Victor’s jaw, grazing the pad of his thumb across the corner of Victor’s lip.  Part of him hated himself for making Victor feel like he couldn’t touch him, like rejection was always one misstep away.

“I want you to kiss me.  What’s going on with me doesn’t have anything to do with you or how much I want you.”

“I know,” Victor replied, but Yuuri could see relief in his eyes.

“I need you to keep pushing me.”  He dragged his hand down Victor’s chest, fighting a blush, and cupped the front of his trousers.  Victor gasped, his hips stuttering up into the contact.  “You always know how much I can take.  Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

“I don’t—“ Victor broke off when Yuuri’s thumb rubbed in a slow circle.  “This isn’t like a triple axel, or some bit of fancy footwork, Yuuri.  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Really?”  Yuuri kneaded his palm against the growing hardness.  “Uncomfortable like your pants must be right now?”

He continued to rub his palm into Victor’s groin, watching as a high blush spread across his cheeks.  It was amusing to see Victor try to form coherent thoughts.

“N-no…yes, but…shit.” 

“If you could have one thing from me right now, Victor, what would it be?”

“What?”

“Be honest.  I’ll be upset if you hold back.”

Victor blinked.  His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and Yuuri didn’t stop fondling him.

“I…I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“I want your skin on my skin.”

With a deep breath, Yuuri popped open the button on Victor’s trousers and unzipped the fly.  Victor watched him with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

Yuuri slipped his fingers between the folds of Victor’s briefs.  They both gasped when he made contact.

“Well?” Yuuri said, voice catching.  “What else?”

“I don’t—“

“Coach me.  Tell me what to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Victor_.”

“Grip it and pull it out.”

Yuuri did as he was told.  He stared at the flushed, smooth shaft in his hand, and felt a pang of bitterness at Victor’s complete physical perfection.  He was as elegant and well-formed here as he was everywhere else.

“Drag your thumb up the underside.”  Victor spoke so quietly that Yuuri would have missed it if they weren’t so close.  Yuuri caressed him from root to tip, swirling a small circle under the head.  “Yeah,” Victor breathed.  “Keep doing that.”

Yuuri did.  Already he felt more relaxed.  He was confident in his ability to follow directions, specifically Victor’s, and he didn’t have to worry that he was making the wrong choices, since Victor would tell him.

“Put your fist around me.  Stroke me up and down.  Slower than that.”

Yuuri was focused, calm.  He let the sound of Victor’s voice wash over him, savoring every stutter, every hitch in his breath.

“Jerk it.  Squeeze tighter.”  Victor was panting, sweat pearling at his hairline.  His fingers curled into Yuuri’s shirt.  “Can you kiss me?”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed.  He halted his strokes and glared at Victor.

“I mean kiss me.  I’m telling you to kiss me.”

Nodding, Yuuri resumed the motion of his hand, and leaned up to lock their lips together.  Victor reached up to frame Yuuri’s face.

“Faster,” he moaned in between kisses.  “And give me your tongue.” 

Yuuri licked into Victor’s mouth.  He held Victor steady with a hand on his hip, and quickened his pace until he began to tremble.

“Tell me you want me,” Victor gasped.  He kissed Yuuri’s cheek, his chin, the side of his nose.

“I want you.”

Victor thrust into the rhythm of his hand.

“Tell me you’ll stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He was close.  Yuuri could see it his eyes, blown black, could feel it in the tremor of his hips.

“T-tell me you love me.”

“I already have.”  Yuuri turned his head and took Victor’s ring finger in his mouth, biting down on the gold band he’d put there.

Victor arched against him.  Ribbons of white spurted onto Yuuri’s shirt, coupled by a low, broken moan.  Yuuri didn’t stop milking him, since he hadn’t been told to stop.

“T-that’s enough,” Victor said after a moment, batting at his wrist sluggishly.

Though Victor had been one the one to come, Yuuri felt serene.  He had done exactly what he was told.  The evidence staining his shirt proved he’d been good.

“You are incredible.”  Victor kissed the words into Yuuri’s lips.  He nuzzled against his face like a cat.

“What do you want now?”

Pulling back, Victor looked him in the eye.  His expression shifted from soft and sated, to penetrating and clear.

“I want to go down on you.”

Yuuri almost choked.

“You…what?”  His face felt like it was fire.

“I want to take you in my mouth and suck on you until you come.  You said to tell you what I wanted.”

Yuuri’s dick twitched, already half-hard from witnessing what he’d done to Victor.  He battled with himself, stuck between what he desired and the fear of messing up.  Part of him wanted to run away, but another part, a stronger part, was clouded by arousal.  He wanted the wet heat of Victor’s mouth, wanted to know what it felt like.  While he’d never been blown before, he’d seen porn and it had always been a major feature in his fantasies.

“I still need you to tell me what to do,” he said, quiet.  He hoped Victor understood that Yuuri needed his guidance to feel secure, that this was more than just a kink.

“I plan on it.”

Swallowing, Yuuri pushed aside his anxiety as best he could, and nodded.

Victor sank to his knees.  Resting his hands high on Yuuri’s thighs, he stared up into his eyes.

“Unzip your pants and take it out,” he commanded.

With shaking fingers, Yuuri complied.  The air was cold on his skin.  He blushed at how hard he was already, despite not being touched.

“Come closer.” 

Yuuri shifted on the cushion until his dick was just a few inches from Victor’s face.  His heart pounded in his ears. 

“Put the tip on my bottom lip.”  Victor’s mouth dropped open.  It was one of the most erotic things Yuuri had ever seen.

The moment his dick touched Victor’s lip, his tongue slipped out to press against the crown.  Yuuri’s hips twitched.  He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

Victor laved at him, working his way down to the base until Yuuri was slick with spit.

“Put your fingers in my hair,” Victor ordered.

When Yuuri obeyed, Victor rewarded him by closing his mouth over the head and sucking.  On a whine, Yuuri tugged on Victor's soft hair, not to guide him, but to ground himself.  He felt like he might float into the ceiling without it. 

Never before had he felt anything like this.  It was nothing like what he’d expected, and he felt his orgasm creeping up on him quicker than was probably socially acceptable.

“I’m going to take you as deep as I can.  You are to keep still, do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.  You’re doing so good for me.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Yuuri’s blush flared.  The praise hit him hard, simultaneously calming him down and fanning his desire into an inferno.

Victor took him deep.  The back of his throat convulsed, engulfing him in tight wet heat that made his toes curl.  Still, he did what he'd been told to do, even though every instinct told him to thrust, to seek more.

When Victor pulled off with a gasp, Yuuri was panting.  He felt like he was choking on air, the edges of his vision blurring.

“Tell me how close you are.”

“C-close.  I’m sorry, I know I should last longer—“

“No.”  The word was harsh, and Yuuri’s jaw snapped shut.  “You are not to apologize, do you understand?”

Yuuri nodded weakly.  Blinking, Yuuri was surprised to find his eyes moist.  He was inundated with sensation, full to the brim and about to spill over.

“I am going to take you in my mouth, and I am not going to stop until you come.  You are to warn me when it’s about to happen.  Okay?”

Yuuri nodded again.

“Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

As soon as the words were out, Victor swallowed him down.  He bobbed his head, swirling his tongue between thrusts.  Jolts of pleasure burned up Yuuri’s spine.  Tingling warmth swelled in his pelvis.  He rushed toward climax, and dug his fingers into the cushions to keep his hips from moving.

“Victor, I’m close.”

Victor reached out and covered Yuuri’s hand with his in a silent gesture of encouragement.  It was the push Yuuri needed to let go, to give himself to Victor.

“I’m coming,” he choked, just before spilling himself deep down Victor’s throat.  The corners of his vision whited out.  Victor sucked him through his release, only stopping when Yuuri started to whine.

He pulled off and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. 

They stared at each other, not speaking, as their breathing evened out.

“That was your first time doing that,” Victor said.

Yuuri looked away, flooded with instant embarrassment.

“Was it that obvious?”

“No.  Quite the opposite.  I always think you seem more experienced than you actually are.  You’re so naturally sensual, Yuuri.”

Yuuri picked at a stray thread on the cushion.

“I was only doing what you told me to.”

Victor climbed back onto his lap.  He tugged Yuuri’s soiled shirt over his head, balled it up, and threw it aside.  Kissing Yuuri once, twice, he rested his fingers on Yuuri’s ribs.

“I liked that very much,” he said.  “I hope you listen to me in practice tomorrow as well as you do when I’m going down on you.”

Yuuri sighed, shaking his head.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good.  Because I have no idea how I’m going to this.”

Yuuri frowned.

“How you’re going to coach me and practice at the same time, you mean?”

“Of course.  It’s going to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”

In an instant, the blissed-out feeling Victor had given him soured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter to include some angst between these two as Victor tries to coach and practice at the same time. Just for some fair warning.
> 
> I love you like Phichit loves hamster hats.
> 
> For update information check out [my tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly second reminder that there's some angst in this chapter, and I've added a "panic attacks" tag. I wouldn't exactly call the following a full blown panic attack (those are fun), but it's close enough.
> 
> I love you like JJ loves himself.

The moment he woke up, Yuuri knew Victor was off.  He was flat on his back, looking at the ceiling with a pucker in his brow.  Yuuri watched him for a few minutes before reaching across the bed and touching his arm.

“Victor?”

“Oh, you’re up.  I’ll make breakfast.”  Throwing off the covers, Victor launched to his feet and fled the room.  Yuuri stared at the empty space he’d left behind, hand suspended. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair.  Victor was sealed inside his own mind, his eyes distant and back straight.  Yuuri wondered if he was always like this when he practiced as a skater, but it didn’t seem likely. 

Yakov always implied that Victor was an impulsive, independent student, but never too serious.  It was rare that Yuuri saw him without a smile around other skaters.  How genuine those smiles were was debatable, but Victor was nothing if not skilled at putting on a happy face. 

Except for today, apparently.

“Ready?” Victor said, startling Yuuri out of his thoughts.

“Oh.  Yeah.  Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Yuuri cast his eyes down.

“I dunno’…it’s your first time acting as both my coach and a skater.  You said last night it would be difficult, and—“

“I can handle it.”  His tone signaled the end of the subject. 

By the time they arrived at the rink, which was a short walk from Victor’s flat, Yuuri was vibrating with tension. 

Did Victor think Yuuri couldn’t perform without his constant attention?  Was he worried that coaching Yuuri would mean his own failure?  Yuuri couldn’t handle the idea of being responsible for that.  He valued Victor’s success as much as his own.  Maybe more.

“Hey, katsudon,” Yuri greeted when they entered the locker room.  He punched Yuuri on the arm.  “You look like shit.  What’s the matter, worried about sharing the ice with a gold medalist?”

Offering him a small smile, Yuuri nodded and moved to put on his gear.  Yuri shot him a searching glare, before leaving for the rink.

Yuuri watched Victor lace up his skates in his periphery.  The pleasant expression he’d come to expect from Victor was set in place once again, but Yuuri saw through it easily.  Little of it resembled the way Victor had looked at him the day before, when they’d chased each other around the living room.

“So, you think you can act as both coach and skater?  You really have lost your mind,” Yakov said as they stretched beside the rink.  “And you, Yuuri.  You’re fine with having half a coach?”

“I’m sure you can help fill in for me when I’m busy,” Victor said cheerfully.  “You are, after all, the best coach I’ve ever had.”

“You’re going to need more than a good coach to return to the ice after a year of sitting in hot springs and stuffing your face, Vitya.”

Yuri snickered before skating off to the other side of the ice. 

Yuuri touched his toes for a stretch to hide his face, and found that his hands were shaking. 

As soon as he hit the ice, Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be skating well.  He could feel eyes on him like a weight on his back, could sense their skepticism.  They must hate him for keeping Victor to himself instead of letting him make a full comeback on his own.  They probably wondered what he was doing here.

And as Yuri had helpfully pointed out, he hadn’t even won gold.

“Yuuri, focus,” Victor said when he flubbed a warm-up step sequence. 

“I should say the same to you,” Yakov shouted as Victor two-footed a triple lutz landing right after.  “You’re skating like you did when you were twelve.  I told you that if you left you couldn’t come back.”

Yakov’s words prickled up Yuuri’s spine.  His eyes darted to Victor’s face.  He was still smiling, but Yuuri could sense his frustration.

Yuuri decided it would be better for him to steer clear and let Victor work on his new program on his own.  After all, Yuuri was perfectly capable of structuring his own practices.  He’d done it for years.  He would be fine.

“You forget how to skate, katsudon?” Yuri said as he came near. 

“Maybe.”

With a deep breath, Yuuri decided to focus on the basics.  He was just starting to settle into them when Victor yelled from across the ice “Yuuri, the last time I saw you skate you were landing quad flips.  Surely you can do more than a few double loops?”

All eyes shot to him.

“You…you want me to try a quad flip?”

“You did ask me to tell you what I wanted.”  Victor’s tone was thick with innuendo, and Yuuri’s face burned.  For a moment, he wondered if everyone knew what they had done the day before.  It was one thing for Victor to flirt with him in Hasetsu, where their practices were mostly private, but in front of Yakov?  And Mila?  And even _Georgi_?

Embarrassed, he turned his back to Victor and started to gather speed.

When he circled around, he saw that Victor wasn’t even watching him.  He was busy attempting a jump.  Yakov was shouting something as he shot into the air, spinning through his own quad flip.  It was perfect, up until he stepped out of the landing. 

The sight was a dagger.  Yuuri was distracting Victor.  He was ruining Victor’s career.  His coach couldn’t even land his own signature move in practice, all because Yuuri wouldn’t let him go.  And here Yuuri was, failing to do basic maneuvers.  Victor had probably wanted to impress Yakov today.  That was why he’d asked for the quad flip. 

Yuuri had to land it.

He launched into the air, but he wasn’t prepared.  He barely made it through three flips when his toe caught, sending him reeling.  His chin hit the ice with a crack that reverberated through his head like a shockwave, whiting out his vision.

It was a long moment before he came back to himself.  He expected to see Victor above him and was surprised to find Yuri’s irritated face filling his vision instead.

“What the hell was that?  Are you alright?” Yuri said.  “You’re bleeding.”

Yuuri turned his head on the ice, looking for Victor.  When he found him, his back was to Yuuri, and he was talking to Yakov.  He hadn’t even seen that Yuuri had fallen.

“Hey, asshole!” belted Yuri, making everyone look at them.  “Your precious little pig just ate shit and you didn’t even notice.  Why don’t you come over here and be a fucking coach for five seconds?”

With a start, Victor sprinted towards them.  Yuuri had pushed himself to a seated position by the time he dropped to his knees and skidded up to him.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Victor asked, frantic.  He took Yuuri’s face in his hands, tilting his head to get a look at his chin.  “You’re bleeding.”

Yuuri shrugged off his touch and looked away, mortified that Victor had to coddle him when he should be practicing.

“I’m fine.”  He swayed when he rose to his feet, but dodged Victor’s grasp when he tried to steady him. “I’m gonna’ go get cleaned up.  You keep practicing.”

As he skated off the ice, he heard Yuri say “trouble in paradise?” behind him. 

He’d barely made it into the locker room when a tear slipped down his cheek.  He washed his chin at the sink, and was relieved to see he didn’t need stitches, despite the amount of blood. 

Once he’d put on antiseptic and a band-aid, he couldn’t imagine returning to the rink.  He’d humiliated himself and Victor, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.

Yuuri left without telling anyone.

 

 

He was only in Victor’s flat for about twenty minutes when the door flew open, slamming against the wall.

Victor was out of breath, his face flushed.  He dropped his bag when he caught sight of Yuuri on the couch.  Makkachin spared him a glance, but didn’t greet him, which Yuuri would have found amusing in different circumstances.

“Why did you leave?” Victor said as he strode towards Yuuri.  He dropped to his knees in front of him, his position a mocking echo of the day before.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.  I just have a headache.”

“Do you have a concussion?”  Victor grabbed him by the shoulder and touched a finger to his jaw.  He looked back and forth between his eyes.

“I said I’m fine,” Yuuri snapped, swatting his hands away.  Victor froze.

“You’re angry with me.”

Crossing his arms, Yuuri stared down at the cushion.  He didn’t answer.

“Yuuri, I’m sorry I didn’t see you fall.  I was busy trying to practice.”

“Exactly.”

A pause.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Yakov was right.  Maybe you can’t do two things at once.”  Yuuri felt the familiar prickling behind his eyes, the lump in his throat.  He desperately didn’t want Victor see him cry, so he shoved to his feet and stalked towards the bedroom.

“Hey, where are you going?”  Victor caught up to him, clasping his elbow to spin him around.  “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying maybe this was a mistake.”  Yuuri wouldn’t look Victor in the eye.  The familiar feeling of looming panic crept up his throat.  He didn’t trust himself, knew he was going to say something he didn’t mean in an effort to regain some control.  He had to get away from Victor, if only for the moment.  “I can’t talk to you right now,” he said.

“Yuuri, please.”  Something in his tone made Yuuri glance up.  “You can’t say something like that and walk away.”

“You can’t even land a quad flip anymore, Victor.  You’re not what you used to be and it’s my fault.”

Victor’s eyes glinted, his mouth thinning into a line.

“I can land a quad flip just fine.”

“You were distracted today, everyone saw it.  From me, from your own program.  This isn’t going to work.”

Yuuri’s throat felt like it was swelling.  His heart revved.  The conversation was barreling towards dangerous ground, but nothing he did seemed to stop it.

“So, what, you don’t want me to skate anymore?  Fine, I won’t.”

“No, I don’t want you to be my coach anymore.”

As soon as the words were out Yuuri wished he could pull them back in.  They hit Victor like a slap, his face falling, eyes blowing wide.  He’d only meant that he didn’t want Victor to quit, that he’d give this up if it meant Victor could keep competing.  He couldn’t say anything right.

“I see.”  Yuuri watched as his expression shifted.  His brow furrowed, the corners of his lips turning down.  Anger sparked in his eyes.  “So you lied to me.”

“No, I didn’t,” Yuuri said shakily.  His head ached with the need to cry.  This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.  Panic swept through him like a storm. 

This was it; the moment he lost Victor, and it was all his fault.  There was nothing he could do to stop it.

“You said you were different.”  Ghosts were hidden in Victor’s tone; people who had abandoned him in the past that Yuuri didn’t know.

“I am.”

“Then tell me, Yuuri, why did you ask me to marry you if you planned on leaving?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to say that he didn’t plan on leaving, that he hadn’t made promises he didn’t intend to keep, that everything was misinterpreted.  Instead what he said was:

“I didn’t ask you to marry me.”

Yuuri would never forget the look on Victor’s face.  He would have given anything to live his life without witnessing it. 

All color drained from his skin, all light from his eyes.  His mouth fell open on a quiet gasp.

“No, I don’t suppose you did.”  Tears filled his blue eyes.  Yuuri was frozen with shock.  Shock with himself for saying something so stupid.  Shock at seeing Victor flayed open and gutted.  “’A lucky charm,’ was what you said.”

With quaking fingers Victor pulled off his golden ring.  He held it in his palm and stared at it.

“Guess it doesn’t work,” he said with the strangest laugh.

He reached to place it on the kitchen counter, and Yuuri broke.

“Stop,” he begged, grabbing Victor’s arms.  “Please, stop.”  A sob broke from his throat, tears spilling free.  “I don’t want this.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I—“

His breath got stuck in his throat and his lungs burned.  He couldn’t seem to swallow.  The world tilted around him, darkening at the edges.  He felt like he was seeing Victor through a tunnel.

“Yuuri, breathe,” Victor said from a distance.  He slid his ring back on and took Yuuri’s face in his cool hands.

“I do want to marry you, I promise, I’m not like them—“

“Shhh, just breathe, baby.”  Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s ear and started whispering to him in Russian.  Though he could only discern a few random words, the timbre of his crisp, ancient language was soothing.  Yuuri took a deep breath through his nose, held it, and exhaled through his mouth.

Victor kissed his hair, his cheekbone.  The world started to right itself.

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered, wrapping his arms around Victor’s waist and burying his face in the curve of his neck.  “I’m sorry."

“I’m sorry too.  I’m not myself today.”

“Me neither.”

Victor smoothed his hands down Yuuri’s back, resting them on the dip above his rear.

“There’s something I want.  Do I still get what I want today?”

Yuuri blinked.  Standing straight, he rubbed the moisture from beneath his glasses and met Victor’s gaze.

“Mhmm.”

“I want to take a shower with you.  We haven’t bathed together since Hasetsu and I miss it.”

“Okay.”

Yuuri followed Victor to the bathroom, dodging the clothes he shed on the way.  As soon as they were inside, Victor turned and systematically undressed Yuuri.  With every moment Yuuri felt more drained, an adrenaline crash hitting him hard.  He moved as Victor wanted, lifting his arms and stepping out of his pants when nudged.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Victor removed his glasses and wiped the tears from his face.  Victor said something to him in Russian.

“What did you say?” he asked, sniffling.

“I said ‘I hate to see you cry.’”

Shivering in his nudity, he wrapped his arms around himself as Victor removed the last of his own clothes. 

Together, they stepped into the hot spray of the shower.  Victor pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together.

“You once asked me to have more faith in you than you did in yourself.”

“I remember.”

“I’m asking you to do the same for me now.”

Sighing against Victor’s lips, Yuuri wove his fingers into the damp, short hair at the back of his head.  He stepped closer.  Their wet skin slid together, warming him from head to toe.

“Victor.  I can’t have a coach who doesn’t win himself.  Makes me look bad,” he murmured, forcing his voice to sound teasing, playful.  “I need someone who takes gold.  I need the competition.”  He pinched Victor’s ring between his fingers.  “You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?”

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed.  He kissed him, nipping his lip.

“You’re the only one who can coach me, Victor.  And you’re the only one I want to skate against.  Please, I want to kiss the medal.”

Fingernails scratched down Yuuri’s back.  He arched and locked their lips together.

They kissed deep and unhurried, neither of them taking it further.  Yuuri lost himself to the slick of Victor’s tongue, to the wonderful scent of him filling his nose and mouth.  Relief overwhelmed him that he hadn’t lost this, that Victor hadn’t left him.

Victor pressed his thumb into Yuuri’s chin to tilt his head and Yuuri winced, having forgotten about the cut.

Victor pulled back, breathless, and frowned at it.  His lips were swollen.

“I should have been watching you,” he said.

“I still would have fallen.”

“I doubt it.”

Yuuri couldn’t disagree.

“For the next few weeks, how would you feel if you and I practiced alone, without other people around?” Victor asked.

“I would like that.”  Yuuri smiled. 

“It’s settled then.”  Victor picked up a bottle of expensive shampoo and squeezed some into his hand.  “I am going to wash your hair now.”

At the familiar commanding tone of his voice the last of Yuuri’s tension melted away.

Victor massaged the solution into his scalp.   

“Tip your head back,” Victor said.  Yuuri did as he was told, and Victor rinsed him.  When he was done, Victor squirted some shampoo in Yuuri’s palm.  “Now wash my hair.  Lather it in your palms first.  Don’t let it get in my eyes.”

Every order hit Yuuri like a sedative.  By the time he’d finished washing Victor’s hair his eyes were half-lidded, his back drooping.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again as Victor smeared soap bubbles across his chest.  “I don’t know why I said what I did.”

“We all say things we don’t mean sometimes.”

“But it was true, wasn’t it.  I didn’t say the words.” 

At the time of his “proposal,” Yuuri had acted impulsively.  In his wildest dreams he hadn’t fathomed that Victor would want to marry him, so he was asking for the most he believed he could get.  But Victor had seen through him, had known him better than he knew himself.

Victor’s hands paused.

“No. You didn’t.”

“But you knew anyway.”

“I might have…made assumptions.”

Yuuri sealed his palms over Victor’s knuckles.

“Victor.”

He blinked up at him.  Moisture clung to his long lashes.

“I want to be with you for the rest of my life,” Yuuri said.

“Saying things you don’t mean again?” Victor replied with a wry grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Yuuri sighed.

“Someday I am going to ask you about your past.”

Victor’s shoulders sagged.

“One thing at a time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you like Yurio loves Hot Topic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is waaaaay less stressful than the last one....  
> ...and also way more smutty.
> 
> I love you like Sara Crispino loves liberating herself from her borderline-creepy ass brother for the sake of exploring her latent sexual attraction for Mila Babicheva.....or something.

“Ow,” Yuuri groaned as he rose from Victor’s bed and crossed his arms over his head.  “Should have stretched after practice.” 

Following their extended shower together, Yuuri and Victor had foregone clothing for the sake of a nap.  Yuuri had been drained after their trainwreck of a morning, and if he was being honest, he’d needed Victor to stay close to him.

Now, though he felt well-rested and decidedly less hysterical, his whole body ached with tension.

“Doesn’t help that you fell either.”

“No,” Yuuri said, testing his jaw with a wince.  He felt like he’d been kicked in the chin.

“I’ll help you do some stretches.”

Victor stood, naked, and rounded the bed.  Yuuri’s mouth went dry at the sight of his lithe form, cast in shadows of cool evening light. 

Somehow, through their horrible fight, Yuuri felt closer to Victor, like some tether between them had been tested, and fortified.  He looked at him differently, saw him with greater clarity.

“Turn around.”

Blushing, Yuuri obeyed. 

Victor’s warm hands touched his shoulders, travelling gently down his arms before clasping his wrists.  With a careful tug, he drew them behind his back.  The stretch pulled at Yuuri’s chest.  He breathed into it. 

Victor kissed the top of his spine before releasing him.  He stepped close.  Yuuri felt the warmth coming off his body as Victor maneuvered Yuuri’s arm straight across his chest and held it. 

It was difficult to focus on the stretch with Victor’s breath puffing against his neck.  His skin tingled where they touched.  His hair stood up.

Victor repeated the position with the other arm. 

“So tight,” he said.

Heat began to coil in Yuuri’s stomach, his nerve endings stirring from Victor’s proximity as leaves curl towards the sun.

The air seemed to crackle.  Yuuri sensed that a barrier between them was about to be broken.

“Good,” Victor said into his ear.  Yuuri groaned at the praise.

Victor’s hands moved to the sides of his head, his fingers digging into Yuuri’s scalp.  He tilted it to the left, then the right.

“A figure skater shouldn’t carry this much tension, Yuuri.”  Hands sliding down Yuuri’s flank, Victor trailed his lips across the peak of Yuuri’s shoulders.  “How can I relieve it for you?”

He gave Yuuri a light push, making him take a few steps. 

“Put your hands on the wall.” 

Yuuri leaned against it on his forearms, and took a deep, shuddering breath.  Head hanging, he looked between his legs and was embarrassed to see how swollen he was.

Fingers clenched low on hips, canting them.  Victor drew one of his legs straight back and nudged him into bending the other. 

“Heel flat on the floor,” he commanded.  The stretch drew a whine from Yuuri’s throat, or perhaps it was the arousal crawling over his skin.  His calves were tight, and Victor’s hands were ruthless in their intimacy.  “That’s it.  You’re doing so well.”

A flush spread from Yuuri’s chest to his cheeks as Victor’s voice washed over him.  When Victor coaxed him into switching to the other leg, his fingers slithered high on his thighs.  Yuuri trembled to think of Victor’s position behind him, on his knees; of where his face must be.

He jerked when Victor’s lips touched where his leg met his body, gasping.  Victor smeared a line of kisses from his thigh, to his hip, to his cheek.

“V-Victor, I—“

“Someday I’m going to put my mouth on you here and I’m not going to stop until you beg for me.”  He trailed a finger down Yuuri’s spine to the crease of his ass.

“Someday?”

Yuuri sensed Victor rise to his feet.  His hands wrapped around Yuuri’s waist and dragged him to face the bed.

“Bend over.”

Though he was thrumming with nerves, Yuuri did as he was told.  He clenched his hands in the sheets, tried to breathe.

“Stretch your arms out onto it.”

He did, and Victor pressed the heel of his palm between his shoulder blades, other hand cupping his hip.

“Legs straight.”

Yuuri tried to catch his breath.  Though their position was guised as a stretch, it was impossible to ignore what it resembled.  He wondered what he looked like to Victor, if he was imagining taking Yuuri like this.  The thought made his knees quiver.  He was heavy between his legs.

“Is this how you want me?” Yuuri said, brazen with suggestion.  He shot Victor a glazed look over his shoulder.

“I—yes.”  Yuuri was pleased to hear the subtle hitch in his breath.  “Actually…no.” 

Victor drew him up and spun him around, pushing him back onto the bed.  Yuuri blinked up at him.

Victor took one of his legs and bent it to his body with his full weight.  He braced a hand beside Yuuri’s head, and leaned over him.  Their pelvises pressed together.  The insistent swell of Victor’s cock nudged his own.

He couldn’t seem to get enough air.  He’d never been so close to anyone, so exposed.  Victor gazed at him with a blush amplifying the striking blue of his eyes.

“This is how I want you,” Victor breathed.

Shaking, Yuuri fanned his fingers over Victor’s chest.  Victor’s heart pounded into the touch.

Using his foot on the floor for leverage, Yuuri grinded up.  Eyelashes fluttering, Victor's mouth dropped open.  Victor’s firm, supple skin against his own was overwhelming, and so different from the suck of his mouth.  It was painfully intimate.  Equal.

“This isn’t just a stretch,” Yuuri said.

“No.  Sorry, I--”

“Can we come like this?”  His cheeks burned at how stupid he sounded, but Victor’s reaction stunted his embarrassment.

His pupils blew black, his breath punching out in a “oh” that sounded vaguely pained.

“We—“  Victor’s throat caught.  He cleared it before speaking again.  “It will feel better if we’re slick.”

With a deep breath, Victor rose to his feet.  The loss left Yuuri bereft, unmoored.

“Lie back against the pillows,” Victor ordered, as if sensing his displacement.  As Yuuri moved, Victor yanked open his bedside drawer and pulled out a small bottle.  Anticipation made Yuuri’s palms sweat.

When Victor climbed back on top, Yuuri wrapped his arms around him.  He pulled him close, desperate to reconnect. 

Victor sealed their lips together.  Yuuri hadn’t realized until that moment that they hadn’t yet kissed.  Sinking into the contact, Yuuri spread open for him.  Victor licked into his mouth, gripping the side of his thigh and shifting until he was fully settled between his legs.

They rocked together, rekindling the desire that had been searing moments before. 

Yuuri heard the sound of a cap snapping open.  Victor’s hand, oiled, slid between their bodies.  When he gripped Yuuri’s length and slicked him, Yuuri groaned against his lips.  Grip faltering, Victor pressed his forehead to the camber of Yuuri’s neck.  He murmured in Russian.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Sometimes it’s better if you don’t.”

A part of Yuuri rose from the haze to absorb that comment, but then Victor took them both in his hand.

Yuuri shuddered.  He rolled into Victor’s grip, scratching his nails down his spine. 

Tipping his head back, he shut his eyes against the intensity of what they were doing.  It was blistering in its intimacy, affording him nowhere to hide.  There was nothing but skin, and breath, and the sparking tug of Victor’s fist.

“Show me your eyes,” Victor said.  Though his voice quaked, he projected enough authority that Yuuri met his gaze.

It was a mistake.

No one had ever looked at Yuuri the way Victor looked at him then; with tender, desperate, _fearful_ longing.  For the first time Yuuri glimpsed how fragile he truly was.  His heart of glass.

Victor was exposed, and Yuuri was not prepared.

“Victor.”  Yuuri reached up and touched his face like he might break him.  “What happened to you?”

Victor’s hand stuttered to a halt.  He shut his eyes.

“You want to talk about that now?” he asked with a weak chuckle.

“No.”  Yuuri tucked a strand of silver hair behind his ear, pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.  “Not right now.”

“I _will_ tell you,” Victor said.  “It’s hard for me.”

“I know.” 

“You have so much power already.”

In all his life, Yuuri had never felt powerful.  He knew how much trust Victor had placed in him, how special that made him.  It made him feel confident, strong, sexy.

With a push, he flipped them.  Victor’s legs splayed, letting Yuuri settle between them, as Yuuri hooked his arms under his back.

They kissed, slow at first, then building.  Victor’s hand pumped them, drawing moans from their throats.

Soon Yuuri couldn’t resist the compulsion to thrust, and Victor kept his hand steady, let Yuuri define the pace.  Their lengths slid together, two livewires of sensation igniting in the friction of the other.

Yuuri spared a thought for what it would be like to be inside Victor, or have Victor inside him.  Would it be even more intense?

Through this simple act he was attuned to Victor as he’d never been before.  He could sense Victor’s attraction to him in every hitch of his breath, every bead of sweat rising on his skin.  There was no space for anything between them, let alone doubt or fear.  It didn’t seem possible that they could be closer than this.

But he wanted to be.  He wanted to crawl inside Victor, wanted to pull Victor into himself until even the barrier of skin had melted away.

"Tell me you love me," Victor said.

"I love you."

“Yuuri,” he whined against his lips.  “Mm’ close.”

“Me too.”

“Want to see you.  You’re so pretty when you come.  Come on—“

With one final thrust, Yuuri’s orgasm hit him.  Liquid heat surged through every vein, stripping him bare.

Victor followed soon after, as though Yuuri’s pleasure spilled over into his own.  His jaw fell, eyes glistening with bliss that looked like pain.  It was mesmerizing.

Collapsing on top of him, Yuuri gasped for air.  Their skin was sticky and wet, the smell of sex heavy in the air.  With his ear pressed to Victor’s chest he could hear the fervent throb of his heart.

“Wow,” Victor said.

Yuuri tumbled off him.  He stared up at the ceiling, a calm settling over his whole body like dew.

“We’re gonna’ need to shower again,” he said.

“Not necessarily.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow.  He gestured to the mess on their bellies.

“We can use a washcloth,” said Victor.

“I guess, but why wouldn’t we just—“

“I like smelling you on me.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, blushing.

“Is that alright?”

“Y-yeah.  Yeah, that’s alright.”

“Good.”  Victor sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “I’m gonna’ clean us up.  Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.”

“Of course you are.  I’ll make dinner.”

“Victor, wait—“ Yuuri said, grabbing his wrist.  “There’s something I need to tell you and I’m not sure how to say it.”

The softness in Victor’s demeanor sharpened in an instant.  He shifted to face Yuuri and balled his fists on his knees.

“What is it?”  He looked like he was preparing to be slapped.  Yuuri took a deep breath.

“You’re a terrible cook.”

 

 

“Stop that,” Yuuri said, slapping Victor’s hands off his ass.  “I’m holding a knife.”  He resumed chopping green onions, shaking his head.

“But I can’t help it,” Victor whined.

“Yes you can.” 

Yuuri stirred his simmering pot of soup, smiling at the idea that Victor had purchased a variety of Japanese cooking staples just for him.  He was eager for a taste of home.

“You’re wearing an apron, Yuuri, over nothing but your underwear.  Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

Victor’s fingers slipped around to his hip bones, drawing him back until his rear was tucked against Victor’s pelvis.  He shivered as a kiss was sucked into the side of his throat.

“We just had sex,” Yuuri reminded him, blushing.

“If you’re trying to deter me, bringing that up is not the way to do it.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“You know what I think,” Victor said, taking the spoon out of Yuuri’s hand and setting it aside.  He pulled him away from the stove and spun him around.  “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Well, it’s not my first time cooking,” Yuuri said innocently, knowing perfectly well what Victor meant.  Victor arched an eyebrow.

“I see.”  His tone was sly, baiting.  “You perform like you’ve cooked many times before, for lots of different people.”

He tucked his fingers under the band of Yuuri’s underwear, high on his rear.  Yuuri draped his arms over his shoulders.

“I’ve only ever cooked for you,” he murmured. 

With a nibble on Victor’s bottom lip, he pulled away, shoving Victor back with a hand on his chest.  “Now go away before you ruin your dinner.”

A blush staining his cheeks, Victor nodded dumbly.  He rounded the counter and sank into a chair a respectful distance away.  Leaning his head against his hand, he watched Yuuri cook with a soft smile.  The attention was distracting.  It made Yuuri’s fingers clumsy.

“What is it about the apron you like so much?” he asked when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I don’t know.  You just look like you belong here.  It’s important to me that you’re comfortable in our home.  And I guess there’s something about it that feels…”

“What?”

“Domestic.”

Yuuri ducked his head and gave the soup an unnecessary stir, unable to fight the grin on his face.  It was hard to believe that they’d fought to the point of Victor removing his ring just that morning.  It was the longest, strangest day of his life.

“Are you saying I look like a housewife?”

“Only in the sense that I can’t stop thinking about marrying you.”

Yuuri had no way of replying to such a comment, so he focused on cooking.

“It’s ready,” he announced a few minutes later.  Victor sprung to his feet and bounded to him.  He marveled at the bowls of udon soup.  Yuuri toed the floor, his heart fluttering.  “Does it look okay?”

“It looks delicious, Yuuri, thank you.”  Victor kissed his cheek and took their bowls to the table.  Yuuri followed him and took a seat.  “Do you want a drink?  I forgot that I bought some saké to celebrate your move.”

“Oh, uh—sure.”

Some sort of mysterious delight sparkled in Victor’s eyes.  Yuuri’s red flags went up.

“Only a little,” he added, wary.

“So I shouldn’t bring out my stripper pole?”

“You have a stripper pole?”

Victor blinked.

“No, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered getting one.”

“What the hell would you do with a stripper pole?”

“The more pertinent question is what _you_ would do with one.  Though I suppose I already know the answer to that,” Victor winked as he took the bottle of saké from the fridge, grabbed some glasses, and returned to the table.

Yuuri frowned, unsure how to process his words.  When he realized what Victor was referring to, a flush climbed from his chest to tips of his ears.

“I really wish you’d delete those pictures off your phone,” he grumbled, stuffing hot noodles into this mouth and pouting.

“But they’re from the night I fell for you.  I could never delete them.”

Yuuri choked and coughed, nearly spewing udon across the room.  Victor handed him a glass of saké to wash it down.  He chugged it.

“Alright?”

“What do you mean the night you fell for me?” Yuuri asked in a squeaky voice.  The saké burned in his chest.

Victor rolled his eyes.

“You know, it’s very inconvenient that you don’t remember anything from that banquet.”

Dread curdled in the back of Yuuri’s throat, his heartbeat revving.  He put down his chopsticks and clamped a hand over Victor’s knee.

“Victor did-did we…did something happen between—“ Yuuri gulped, unable to finish the sentence.

Victor stared blankly at him for a moment, before bursting into laughter.

“Are you asking me if we had sex?”  Pearls of moisture beaded at the corner of Victor’s squinted eyes as he giggled.  Yuuri would have found him cute if he wasn’t so mortified.

Heat rose to his cheeks.  He removed his hand from Victor’s knee and stared down at his steaming soup.  His glasses fogged up.

“Don't you think I would have mentioned that by now?” Victor said.

“I dunno’.”

“And you think I would have taken advantage of you like that?”

“No…”

“Of course not.  Though I guess I should mention that you did dry hump me in front of everyone when you begged me to be your coach.”

Yuuri wanted to sink into the floor and die.  Since that wasn’t an option, he flattened his face to the table and covered his head in his hands.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Victor said, running his fingers across Yuuri’s bare back.  “You were enchanting.”

“I was wasted,” Yuuri mumbled into the wood.

“Yes, and you managed to make such an impression on me that I gave up my career.  I’d never had so much fun in my life.”

Yuuri gawked at him, watching as Victor casually slurped up a few noodles as if he hadn’t just altered Yuuri’s entire perspective on their relationship.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” he moaned.  “This is delicious.  You’re right, I am a terrible cook.”

“I can’t believe I asked you to be my coach.  Oh god!” Yuuri gasped, jerking up.  “You must have thought I was so cold to you when you first came to Hasetsu.”  He covered his mouth in horror.

“I admit I was confused by your...mixed messages.”

“You were naked!  All the time!”

“Well, it was a hot spring...”

“You kept asking to sleep with me!”

“It didn’t seem like such a leap considering—“

“The eros program.  No wonder you thought I was some pervert.”  Yuuri pulled at his hair, face scrunching up.

“I’m not sure why you’re so embarrassed.  I was practically throwing myself at you.  If anything I should be mortified.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

“But you’re not.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“Why?”

Victor reached over, taking Yuuri’s hand in his and pressing their rings together.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Victor beamed at him, bright and happy.  Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back.

“Now eat your soup,” Victor said, nudging Yuuri’s cheek with his knuckle.  “It’s delicious.”

For several minutes they ate in contented silence, their legs pressed together under the table.  Yuuri sipped on saké, enjoying the warmth spreading.

“Tomorrow morning let’s get up early and practice before anyone else gets to the rink, just you and me.”

“Okay."

“I’ll join the others when they start practicing, and you can watch or come back here if you like.”

“Does this mean I get to coach you a bit?”

Victor started, head jerking back.  He took a slow sip of his saké, brow pulled down into a pensive stare.

“O-or not.  I’m sure there’s not much I could teach you, since—“

“Yuuri!” said Victor, gripping his cheeks.   “That’s an excellent idea!  You can coach me and I can coach you.  It’s the perfect solution.”  He stuck a smacking kiss to Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri wondered what he had just gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna extend a special thank you to all who review, and specifically those who have offered support for my portrayal of anxiety. It's an important subject for me to get right, as it's been an unfortunate feature in my life, and your kind words mean the world.
> 
> I love you like Georgi loves eye shadow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section was meant to be one chapter but it got away from me, so it'll be written in two parts for the sake of expedient posting.
> 
> You'll notice I drew some lil flowery Makkachin dividers bc why the faff not? 
> 
> I love you like Otabek loves grumpy yet secretly fragile kittens with a grunge aesthetic.

Yuuri smiled as Victor landed a perfect quad flip. 

Leaning on his forearms against the half wall, Yuuri admired the swish of Victor’s hair, the weightless elegance of his fingers, the strong bow of his legs.

He felt stupid for suggesting Victor wasn’t what he used to be.  He was more.  He was free and honest now, in a way none of his programs had been before.

“Thoughts, Yuuri?” Victor said as he skated over and slid his hands up Yuuri’s arms.

“Your quad flip was great.”

“Yeah?”  Victor leaned closer.  “Anything else?”

“You’re engaging well with the choreography.  Seems more natural, less like a performance.”

Victor’s lips brushed the arch of his cheekbone.

“Anything else?””

“Well, there was one problem.”

Pulling back, Victor met his eyes with a frown.

“You seemed distracted at times,” Yuuri said. 

“Distracted.”

“Yeah.  Maybe you should stop flirting with your coach.”

A smile spread across Victor’s face. 

“Perhaps my coach should try not to be so distracting, then.”  Victor tilted his head to kiss him, and Yuuri’s eyes slid shut.

“Will you two cut it out?” Yuri barked, startling them into jumping apart.  “You’re so gross.  Remind me why you aren’t in an old folk’s home yet?”

“Sorry, Yurio,” Victor said with a smile.

“Don’t call me that!”

 

Once Victor had changed back into street clothes, he strode up to Yuuri and wove their fingers together.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

Instant tension swept up Yuuri’s back.  He had never been a fan of surprises.  The lack of control was hard on his nerves, and he liked to prepare for any kind of social interaction.

“You’ll like it,” Victor added.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to practice more?”

“I thought practice this morning went well enough, don’t you?”

Yuuri couldn’t disagree.  It had felt like they were back in Hasetsu, just the two of them.  And yet they were closer, more harmonized than before.  Victor had soothed his nerves with casual touches and words of praise, coercing him gently until he landed his own flawless quad flip.  He’d been rewarded with scorching kisses that still tingled on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Good.  Then let’s go home.  Part of your surprise should be waiting for you on the bed.”

Yuuri gulped, his nails digging into his palm, but he followed Victor nonetheless.

 

 

Yuuri shuffled into their bedroom with Victor behind him, his palms covering Yuuri’s eyes.

“Tada!” Victor exclaimed when he pulled his hands away.  

Yuuri gaped down at a three-piece suit, spread out on the damask. 

It was a dark shade of charcoal.  The lapels were some kind of shiny material, stark against the smooth fabric of the whole, and calling out to be touched.  Beside it was a thin black tie and a crisp white dress shirt with small black buttons.  The tags read Dolce and Gabbana.

“Victor, I—“  The words lodged in Yuuri’s throat.  How could he begin to thank him?  He didn’t deserve a suit like this, had no way of paying him back. 

Victor’s fingers crept around his waist.  He rested his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Let me take you out,” he said.  The words reverberated against Yuuri’s back like a purr.

“But--but you already bought me a suit,” he stammered.  “In Barcelona.”

“Yes, and I enjoyed it so much that I decided to do it again.”

“The money is—“

“Mine to spend on what I’d like.”

Yuuri shook his head, fingers clenching into fists.

“If it helps,” Victor said, “my motivations are not entirely selfless.  Seeing you in this suit is for my pleasure as much as yours.”

Yuuri sagged back against him, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.  Victor tucked a finger under his collar and pulled it aside to kiss the top of his shoulder.

“Where are you taking me that I need a suit like this?”

“Do you really want to spoil the surprise?”

“Yes.”

Victor sighed. 

“We’re going to the ballet.”

Starting, Yuuri spun around in Victor’s arms.

“Really?”

Victor blinked, surprised.  Then his expression smoothed out, a sweet fondness softening his eyes.  His fingers found Yuuri’s jaw.

“Yes.  There’s an all-male production of _Swan Lake_ that I thought you’d enjoy.  Dinner first, though.”

Though a bundle of nerves had settled in his stomach, Yuuri couldn’t fight his excitement.  He’d never been on a proper date with Victor, and the idea was enthralling, if intimidating.

“I need to shower.”

“Likewise.  You go first, and I’ll take Makkachin for a short walk.”

 

 

Yuuri stared at the foggy mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist.  He raked his fingers through his hair.  The cut on his chin stood out.  It was proof of his failure, of his awkwardness.

He tried to find something appealing in his appearance, and came up empty.

Yuuri decided in that moment to leave his glasses at home, even if it meant not being able to see much of the ballet.  They wouldn’t match the lavishness of the suit, would give away how little he deserved to wear it.

Victor would no-doubt dress to the nines for their date.  Would Yuuri look dull beside him?  Would there be people Victor knew at the ballet?  They’d probably wonder what he was doing with someone like Yuuri, when he was so clearly out of his league.

Squeezing his eyes tight, a whimper snuck from Yuuri’s throat.  He desperately wanted to enjoy his date with Victor, didn’t want to let his anxiety ruin it.  But the more he feared his anxiety, the more anxious he became.

With a deep breath, he opened the bathroom door, a cloud of steam billowing out around him.  Victor was lounging on the bed with Makkachin watching TV, but his eyes darted over.

He looked Yuuri up and down, pausing on where the towel was wrapped low on his waist.  He licked his lips.

“Maybe going out was a bad idea,” he said. 

Part of Yuuri assumed Victor meant he wasn’t fit to be seen in public.  But another part of him, the rational part, couldn’t ignore the hunger in Victor’s gaze.

“The only thing that looks better on you than a suit is nothing at all,” Victor said, rising to his feet and dispersing Yuuri’s toxic thoughts.  His fingers found the edge of the towel and drew it from Yuuri’s grasp.  It fell to the floor at their feet.

“If you don’t stop we—we’ll miss our reservation,” Yuuri said as Victor sucked on his neck and lined their bodies together.  The drag of fabric was unbearably stimulating on his naked skin.  He clenched his fingers in Victor’s shirt to tether himself, moaning when Victor’s teeth sunk into the meat of his shoulder.

With a groan, Victor stepped back.

“You’re right,” he said.  “Why don’t you put your suit on and wait for me in the living room while I shower.  I set out some champagne and cheese if you want it.”

“Victor, this is all way too much.”

Victor’s cheerful expression flickered.

“Ah,” he said, wincing.  “I was worried it might be.  Maybe we should just—“

“No, no wait.”  Yuuri stepped close again, gripping the sides of Victor’s shirt.  “Don’t finish that thought.  Please.”

He pressed his forehead to Victor’s chest.  Warm hands curled around his shoulders.

“I can’t wait to go out with you,” Yuuri said.

Victor kissed his wet hair.

 

 

The suit fit Yuuri perfectly.  It was tight on his rear and his ribs, but appropriately loose around his chest and between his legs.  It held him like a lover, like Victor had just done, fully clothed where Yuuri was naked and pink from his shower.

He flushed at the idea that Victor had remembered his measurements from their outing in Barcelona.  It made sense that Victor had a tailor, considering the way he dressed at competitions.  The only suit Yuuri owned before Victor was from a department store.  And Victor wanted to burn it.

Leg bouncing on the carpet, he sat rigid on the couch and took a swig of champagne.

When Victor’s bedroom door creaked open, Yuuri flew to his feet.  He ran a hand over his slicked-back hair.

Sauntering into the room with his hands in his pockets, Victor glowed with confidence and grace.  He wore his suit, a grey three-piece with a faint plaid pattern, like a second skin.  A blue silk pocket square matched his eyes, and his pants were tight on his muscled thighs.

He was beautiful.  Yuuri’s mouth went dry.

Victor stuttered to a halt when he saw Yuuri.  Mouth dropping open, his eyes went wide.

“Wow,” he breathed.  “You look…wow.”

“I didn’t know how to do my hair so I just did what I do in competitions, and I think the tie might be crooked, and I put on the shoes you gave me even though we’re in the house because I figured they haven’t been used before so—“

“You look gorgeous.”

“I—“

“Gorgeous,” Victor repeated, walking up to him.  He reached out to grip the knot in Yuuri’s tie.  Drawing him close, he sealed their lips together and tongued the seam of Yuuri’s mouth.

Moaning into him, Yuuri’s jaw dropped open.  Victor tasted of mint and smelled like his expensive cologne.  They kissed, long and sloppy and wet, until Yuuri was panting.  His pants were tight.

When Victor pulled back, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

“You’re going to make it very difficult to leave this flat,” he said, plucking the champagne glass from Yuuri’s fingers and downing the rest of it.

“You like dressing me that much?”

“I like putting you in clothes that deserve to touch your body.”

Blushing, Yuuri grabbed the champagne from the ice bucket on the counter, and drank straight from the bottle.  He needed to take the edge off, needed a bit of courage to handle the night ahead of him.

“Does this mean you’re ready to go?” Victor asked, eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.  Let’s do it.”  Yuuri wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Don’t you want to wear your glasses?”

“No.  No, I’m fine.”

Victor side-eyed him, but didn’t push the subject, even when Yuuri walked right into the doorframe on their way out.

 

 

“Mister Nikiforov!” squealed the hostess when they entered the restaurant, face turning an odd shade of pink.  She stuttered out something in Russian that Yuuri couldn’t understand.  He watched Victor smile politely in the corner of his vision. 

“Thank you, Dina.  I appreciate you reserving it for me with such short notice,” he said in English for Yuuri’s benefit.  The waitress spared him a glance, as if just noticing his presence.  When she replied, it was in English as well.

“Anything for a living legend.”

It was a challenge for Yuuri to keep from rolling his eyes.

The girl called Dina led them through the intimate space, past a few rows of candlelit tables to a booth in the back.  It was a dark and sensual space, marked by red cushions, fine art, ornate ceilings, and chandeliers.  While it was clearly out of Yuuri’s price range, it had a cozy, if mysterious, air about it that kept him from getting too uncomfortable.

“What do you think?” Victor asked once they were seated with their menus.

“It’s very…Russian.” 

Yuuri winced, but Victor only looked amused.

“You’re not wrong.”

“I have no idea what to order.”  Yuuri was not familiar with Russian cuisine, and even if he was, he couldn’t read the menu.

“Do you want me to order for you?”

Heat bloomed for reasons he didn’t entirely comprehend.

“Yes,” he breathed.  Victor’s eyes darted to his mouth.  A spark of desire pulsed between them.  Victor’s fingers found his beneath the table.

When their waiter approached a moment later, Victor didn’t bother speaking in English.  It took the stress of decision-making and social interaction out of Yuuri’s hands, which was good, but Yuuri didn’t need language to see how the waiter fawned over Victor.  Yuuri could have been a piece of furniture for all the man acknowledged him, and some of the glances he leveled at Victor were a little too amatory to be strictly professional.

It was even more evident that Victor was viewed as a celebrity when the owner of the restaurant personally delivered their champagne.  Victor was courteous, as always, though he didn’t introduce them.

A needling feeling of inferiority crept into Yuuri’s mind.  Was Victor embarrassed of him?  He pulled at his suit, finding it tight, uncomfortable.  He didn’t belong in it.

“Everyone here is jealous of me,” Victor whispered into his ear once they were alone again, his hand sliding high on Yuuri’s thigh.  It was an arrogant thing to say, even for him, despite being true.

“Well, you are a ‘living legend’—“

“That’s not what I meant.”  Victor’s fingers curled on his leg in a teasing caress.  Yuuri twitched in his pants.  “You have no idea what you look like.  If no one was watching I’d sink to my knees right now and suck you off under the table.”

Yuuri’s face burned, a rush of arousal making his palms sweat.

“Perhaps I will anyway, even with their eyes on us, so everyone knows you’re mine.”  He fingered the crease of Yuuri’s pants, and Yuuri slapped his hand away.

“ _Victor_ ,” he hissed, scandalized. 

Pouting, Victor leaned back.  Yuuri adjusted his trousers, now too tight.  He couldn’t get the thought of Victor’s hot, wet mouth out of his head, of how Yuuri would try, and fail, to hide his pleasure from the other patrons.  Of how he’d pull on Victor’s hair when he came.

“You’re so flushed, Yuuri.  Is it too hot in here?”

Glaring at him only seemed to amuse Victor further.

In an impressive display of self-control, Yuuri changed the subject.  Soon, he was lost in a discussion about Victor’s new short program.  The chatter around them faded into the background. 

“You want your theme to be ‘home’?”

“I think so.  The choreography you saw in Mila’s video is the early version.”

Yuuri recalled his impression of the video, of how he’d seen passion and devotion in Victor’s movements that he’d never shown before.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what home means to me, both the home I found in Hasetsu, and the one I want to make with you now.” 

“Victor.”

“I realized I’d never really had a home before.  And…and I haven’t had a family in a long time.”

Yuuri held his breath, wondering if this was the moment Victor told him about his past.  He wove their fingers together and stayed quiet, showing he was ready to listen.

But Victor didn’t elaborate.  He looked like the mere admission that he lacked a family had cost him something.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

“I got you something,” he said, placing it on the table.

Yuuri’s heart pounded in his ears.  For a brief moment he wondered if it was an engagement ring, but then he remembered he was already wearing one.

“You’ve already gotten me enough.”

“Not possible.”

Trembling, Yuuri picked up the box and flipped open the lid. 

Inside was a pair of cufflinks with small red gemstones set in a frame of diamonds.  Yuuri forgot how to breathe.

“The stone is called Alexandrite,” Victor said.  “It changes color in the sun.  It’s very rare.  Japan and Russia are two of the few places it comes from.”

Gently, Yuuri took the cufflinks from the box.  They glimmered on his palm in the candlelight.

“I bought them a few weeks ago.  I’d been thinking about what home means to me, and I wanted to get you something special, for when you moved in,” Victor said.  “I just hadn’t found the right moment to give them to you.”

Yuuri bit his lip, willing away the ache in his throat.  He startled when Victor touched his cheek.

“Do you like them?” he asked.  His eyes were hesitant, nervous.

Spectators be damned, Yuuri caught Victor’s lips in a penetrating kiss.  He could taste champagne on his tongue, could feel the quiver in his fingers when he touched Yuuri’s hair like he was something special and dangerous.

“I love them,” he murmured against Victor’s mouth.  “Thank you.”

With careful fingers Victor took the cufflinks from Yuuri’s hand, removed the simple ones he was wearing, and put the news ones in their place.  Every time his fingers grazed the sensitive skin on the underside of his wrist a jolt went up his spine.

It was difficult to focus at first, with Victor’s lips plump and inviting beside him.  All he’d have to do was lean over to kiss him.

Still, they managed to settle back into light conversation.

Victor was attentive as they spoke, refilling his champagne glass without prompting and playing with the hair on the back of his neck.  He watched Yuuri with a fond gaze.

One of Yuuri’s favorite things about Victor was how easy he was to talk to.  Yuuri had trouble with most people, often running out of topics or embarrassing himself with poor phrasing.  He never seemed to have that issue with Victor, who drank up everything he had to say and was courteous enough to ignore his moments of awkwardness.  It didn’t hurt that they shared most of their interests, either.

Yuuri almost didn’t notice when the waiter dropped off their food. 

Every plate was a work of art, delicately assembled in evocative tableaus that Yuuri had no idea how to approach.  He could tell that most of the dishes featured some kind of seafood, but there were a number of ingredients he didn’t recognize. 

Spreading his napkin on his lap, he took up his fork with a shaky hand.  It felt sacrilegious to ruin the food by eating it.

“I have no idea how to eat this,” he whispered.  Victor kissed his cheek and spoke into his ear.

“With your mouth, darling.”

Yuuri elbowed him in the side.

“Here,” Victor said, pushing a bite onto his fork and bringing it to Yuuri’s lips.  When Yuuri took the fork into his mouth Victor’s pupils dilated, a blush rising on his skin.

“It’s good,” Yuuri said, low.  He licked his lips, pleased when Victor tracked the movement.  “Tastes different.”

“Different?”

“I’ve never had anything like it in my mouth before.”

Victor exhaled shakily.  Yuuri felt the familiar spark of power.

They ate their meal in relative silence, Victor occasionally lifting his fork to Yuuri’s mouth to feed him, his hand resting on the inseam of Yuuri’s pants.  It was immensely erotic, and by the time their plates were cleared Yuuri was thrumming with desire.  The buzz from the champagne wasn’t helping. 

He felt over-sensitive, like every nerve was yearning for Victor’s touch, for the heat of his skin.  It was an effort to keep from kissing him, to stop from shifting that little bit so that Victor’s hand was where he wanted it most.

Victor was otherworldly in the amber light from the candles and chandeliers.  His skin seemed to glow, his eyes an icy blue that kept capturing Yuuri’s gaze and refusing to let go.

When the waiter asked them something in Russian, Yuuri was so distracted that he jumped and almost knocked over his champagne glass.

“Do you want dessert, Yuuri?  The waiter is asking,” Victor said. 

“Uh, no, I’d better not.”

Victor asked for the check in Russian, in one of the few phrases Yuuri could translate.  

“We should head to the theatre soon anyway,” Victor said, tipping forward to pull his wallet from his pocket.

“Oh, let me get it.”  When Yuuri moved to grab his own wallet, Victor stopped him with a strong grip on his wrist.

“Absolutely not.”

“But I—“

“Don’t bother trying to argue with me.  The only person more stubborn than you is me.  You made me dinner last night.  I’m simply paying you back.”

“I made you some noodles.  This is…way, way more.”

“Not to me.”

Yuuri frowned, but didn’t push out of politeness.  He was uncomfortable to be reminded, yet again, that Victor had so much more money than he did.  He never wanted to look like a freeloader.  And it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own endorsements, though they paled in comparison to Victor’s. 

Victor angled the bill so that Yuuri couldn’t see it, but he’d glimpsed enough of the menu to know it was outrageous. 

Though he claimed this was recompense for the udon, the exchange didn’t sit right with Yuuri.  Glancing at his new cufflinks, he decided he wanted to do something special for Victor that night.  He wanted to surprise him.

As they pulled on their coats and left the restaurant, hand in hand, Yuuri tried to come up with an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: ballet time! 
> 
> The restaurant Yuuri and Victor visit here is a mix of a couple different places in St. Petersburg (this was a google search endeavor that left me VERY hungry). Alexandrite was a fortunate discovery, since I was looking for token Russian gemstones and found out one of the big, super rare ones is in Japan as well. And it changes color in the sun tooooo *wipes away tear* ohhhh accidental metaphors, how I love thee.
> 
> I added some cover art to [chapter one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9001282/chapters/20554537) if you'd like to take a gander, or view it on [my tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/155652609225/nerve-endings-by-phyona-when-yuuri-moves-in#notes). 
> 
> I love you like Yakov loves silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eros Mode: Activated.
> 
> I love you like Minami loves Yuuri's celebrity booty.

When Yuuri and Victor walked into the crowded theatre lobby, every head swiveled to them, recognition clicking in their eyes.  Yuuri suppressed the instant compulsion to flee, Victor’s grip on his hand tethering him to the spot. 

Several people scuttled over, blabbering in Russian.  Yuuri didn’t need a translator to understand what the apparent fans were saying.  Their tones were bright with greedy admiration, eyes bulging and lips pulled back.  It was a well-dressed, attractive group, intent on pretending Yuuri wasn’t there.

Victor smiled at their praise, but Yuuri could feel him stiffen whenever they touched him, as if they believed his talent was transferrable by contact.  He wanted to drag Victor away, to show that he was the only fan who’d be taking him home that night.

With a polite wave, Victor excused them to pick up their tickets at Will Call, where even the box office attendants drooled over him.

“Does everyone in St. Petersburg know who you are?” Yuuri said as they made their through the lobby, past a flurry of giggles and prying eyes.

“I highly doubt it.”

“Just everyone at the places you take me,” Yuuri grumbled, adjusting his tie.  He felt peoples’ stares like insects on his skin.

“The ballet and figure skating worlds have some overlap, as you know.”  He looked at him.  “Do you want to leave?”

“No,” Yuuri answered quickly.  “Just--maybe the next time we go out you should wear a disguise or something.”

“You don’t like the attention?”

“I don’t like competing for yours.”

“Yuuri—“  Victor was interrupted by an usher, holding out a hand to check their tickets.  Smile back in place, Victor obliged, and they were led to the stairs.

“Box seats?” Yuuri snapped once they were seated. 

“Private box seats.  Safe from the attention you dislike so much.”

The seats were on the highest floor, overlooking both the stage and the audience.  They’d be on display as much as the dancers, like royalty.  “Uh, not exactly.  Everyone can see us here.”

“I’m sure the performance will be more interesting than we are.”

Yuuri shifted on his cushion, wishing he could take off his tie and unbutton his stupidly luxurious shirt.  He didn’t belong in this crowd of people, and yet there he was, in the box seats of one of the most beautiful theatres he’d ever seen. 

He looked up at the enormous chandelier on the ceiling, framed by a fresco of dancing revelers.  It illuminated the intricate gold trim lining the balconies.  Everything was opulent and majestic as Yuuri could never be.

“Victor…the cost.  It’s way too--”

“If it helps, I didn’t pay for these tickets.”

“But how—“

“The company offers me comps for every show.”

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, shaking his head. 

“Of course they do.”  Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling his hand down.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s…I don’t know.  You’re giving me way too much.”

“Why do you have such trouble accepting gifts from me?” 

Yuuri met his gaze.

“It’s not just you.  I don’t like taking handouts from anyone.”

“These are not ‘handouts,’ Yuuri.”  A frown crinkled Victor’s brow, the edges of his mouth curving down.  Yuuri vastly preferred to see him smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking the back of his fingers across Victor’s cheek.  Eyes sliding shut, Victor reached up to hold his hand against his face.  “I do appreciate what you’re doing for me tonight.  I just want to pay you back.”

“You already have,” Victor said.

While it helped to hear Victor state that he didn’t expect anything in return, it also cemented Yuuri’s resolve to do something special for him.  He wasn’t exactly sure what that something would be, only that it had to be new, surprising.

When the houselights dimmed, Victor took Yuuri’s hand and tangled their fingers together on his lap.

Yuuri felt a flutter of excitement as the music started to play, the curtains rolling back.  He squinted down at the stage as the first dancers pranced to the center.  Their figures were blurs to Yuuri, and he felt a pang of regret for leaving his glasses at home.  It felt silly not to bring them over something as trivial as his outfit.

Victor tapped on his arm.

He looked down, breath catching what he saw what Victor was handing him.

“You brought my glasses,” he whispered.

“I figured you would enjoy the show more if you could actually see it.  And for the record, I like the way you look in them.  Especially with your hair like that.”

Yuuri stared at Victor, and for the strangest moment, didn’t believe he was real.

He pressed a lingering kiss to Victor’s lips.  Victor blinked, looking a bit dazed as Yuuri leaned back and put his glasses on.

Casting his misgivings aside, Yuuri let himself get lost in the ballet. 

It was unique and sensual to see a male cast perform _Swan Lake_.  The men were strong and muscled, yet elegant with their long fingers and narrow waists; the perfect symbiosis of masculine and feminine. 

It reminded Yuuri of his pair skate with Victor, which meant his thoughts drifted, as they always did, to their little interaction in the hotel room after.  Of how Victor had pleasured him for the first time.  He twitched in his pants.

He tried to focus on the technical aspects of the show to distract himself, but every lift, every pas de deux, fanned the desire that had been mounting in Yuuri all night.  He longed to hold Victor’s tight body against his, to map the curves chiseled by years of ballet and skating practices. 

He stroked his thumb across Victor’s knuckles, tingling when Victor returned the touch.  Their fingers danced along with the swans, entangling and caressing, like an imitation of sex.  Heat coiled in Yuuri’s belly.

He felt an impulsive need to _do_ something, to drag their arousal one step further.  Still, he didn’t know how.

Before Yuuri could figure it out, the house lights came up for intermission.

As he stretched his legs and visited the bathroom, Yuuri was lost in thought.  He knew the inspiration he needed was barely beneath the surface of his consciousness, waiting to be fleshed out.  He just needed one final push.

Unfortunately, he kept getting distracted by Victor’s fans.  Every time someone approached, offering their flustered compliments and unwanted touches, Yuuri scowled at them.  He managed to scare a few away.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, hesitant, once they were back in their seats.

“What?”  Yuuri winced at how curt he sounded, but it was hard to pause the torrent of his mind.  He was so _close_ to epiphany.

“Do you like the show?”

“Yes.”

Victor nodded and looked down at his hands, folded on his lap.  Unease rippled from him like an aura.

Yuuri touched his arm and tilted close, pressing his lips to Victor’s ear.

“I love it,” he said.

Victor’s shoulders relaxed.

When the show resumed, Yuuri had trouble focusing.  Frowning, he chewed the inside of his lip.  All he could think of were the invasive eyes of the audience.  Glaring down, he searched the seats below and found several people staring up at them.  He felt a rush of possessiveness, of agitation.

Victor belonged to Yuuri tonight, not them, and he wanted to prove it.

He recalled what Victor had whispered to him in the restaurant; how he’d wanted to sink to his knees and suck Yuuri off in front of everyone, so they’d all know Yuuri was his.  Yuuri understood the compulsion now better than ever…

Yuuri found his idea.

Glancing at Victor, Yuuri found him absorbed in the performance, where the male Odette and Prince Siegfried were moving together through lifts and dips that looked like sex.

Yuuri slid his fingers on Victor’s thigh.  Victor twitched, his eyes flickering over, but he didn’t stop him.  Shifting closer, Yuuri scratched his nails on the inseam of Victor’s trousers, trailing a slow path to his groin.

“Yuuri,” Victor said over the music, grabbing his wrist.  “What are you doing?”

Yuuri didn’t answer.  He leaned close and licked the shell of Victor’s ear.  Victor’s grip on his wrist faltered, allowing Yuuri to pull free and seal his palm over the mound between Victor’s legs. 

Victor nearly fell out of his chair.

“ _Yuuri_.”

“Watch the show,” he murmured, nipping Victor’s pulse point.  He rubbed in a slow circle, feeling a spark of power when Victor’s breath caught.  “I don’t want you to miss anything.”

“People might see.”

“Let them,” Yuuri said.  “From this angle they’ll just think I’m whispering to you.  Unless you give it away.”

Victor exhaled tremulously, but kept his eyes on the stage.  Yuuri rewarded him by easing down his zipper and popping open the button.  With deft fingers he pulled Victor’s length through the slit in his briefs.

Victor swore in Russian.

He was already half-hard, warm and velvety in Yuuri’s palm.  Leaning back, Yuuri admired the high flush on his cheeks, evident even in the low light.

“You look like you’re enjoying the show, Victor,” he teased, running the pad of his thumb down the underside of Victor’s shaft.  He felt a spark of satisfaction, of control, at turning the tables on Victor, who had damn-near tortured him at dinner.  “Do you like seeing two men dance together?”

“Y-yes.”

“Are you imagining it’s us, grinding on each other?  Would you like to see me in tights like theirs?  Or perhaps nothing but ballet slippers.”

Victor’s reply got lost in a gasp as Yuuri began stroking him. 

He tried to remember the techniques Victor had taught him on the couch a few days before.  Varying his movements, he alternated between light caresses and rigorous pulls.  Every time Victor began to anticipate his ministrations, Yuuri switched it up. 

He wondered what Victor was thinking in that moment.  Was he stunned by what Yuuri was doing to him?  Appalled?  Yuuri scrutinized his face, trying to read him.

While Victor was beautiful with his lips parted and eyes wide with stunned arousal, it wasn’t enough.  Yuuri still hadn’t shocked him, at least not to the extent he craved.

Releasing him, Yuuri pulled the program out from where it was tucked beneath his leg.  He held it in front of Victor’s face.

“Oops,” he said, dropping it to the ground with a wink.

Victor blinked at him, frozen, as Yuuri sunk to knees under the guise of retrieving it.  He parted Victor’s legs and inserted himself between them.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Yuuri took Victor’s cock into his mouth.

Fingers clamped in Yuuri’s hair. Victor choked above him, his thighs squeezing Yuuri’s ribs.

While no one would be able to see what he was doing below the railing, the idea that so many spectators were close by fueled Yuuri’s resolve.  He hated the way Victor had been ogled all night, as though he was some public commodity.

Yuuri was the only one who knew Victor’s affection, his love, and he wanted to prove it.  He wanted to pull Victor apart, where everyone could see his face, conquered by bliss.

Though he’d never gone down on anyone before, he knew what worked when Victor had done it to him, and he had some concept of Victor’s preferences.  Wrapping his fingers around Victor’s shaft at the base, he took him deep, swallowing around the head.  Victor’s legs trembled at his sides, pelvis jerking in little aborted thrusts.

Bobbing his head, Yuuri sucked, hard.  He swirled his tongue around the crown on every pull, holding Victor steady with a hand on his hip.  He was careful not to use teeth.

Yuuri could feel Victor’s shock like a smell in the air.  In that moment, he knew he’d succeeded.  He was giving Victor an experience he’d never forget.

The music from the orchestra washed over him, helping him focus.  He absorbed Victor’s reactions like a language, spoken in hitches of breath and quivers that only he could understand.

“I’m close—“ Victor hissed too soon.  Yuuri felt a pang of disappointment.  He was having fun, enjoying the intoxicating influence he had over his coach, despite being on his knees.  _He_ controlled Victor’s pleasure, his body.  No one else. 

He doubled his efforts, pleased when Victor slapped his palm over his mouth to muffle a moan.  His legs shook, his fingers flexing in Yuuri’s hair.

Spurts of liquid heat hit the back of Yuuri’s throat, and he swallowed.  The taste wasn’t what he was expecting.  It was bitter, musky, but Yuuri decided he liked the flavor.  It felt scandalous.

He lapped at Victor until a tug on his shirt asked him to stop.  Gently, Yuuri tucked him back in and zipped his fly.

Yuuri returned to his seat and smoothed back his hair.  He wiped the corner of his mouth with a fingertip.

Victor was panting beside him, white-knuckling the sides of his chair.

Yuuri tilted close to him.

“You’re so flushed, Victor.  Is it too hot in here?” he whispered, mocking him with his own words.

“Y-you…” Victor said, cutting off with a gulp.

“Me.” 

With a smirk, Yuuri crossed his arms and lounged back to watch the rest of the ballet.  He’d never felt less anxious in his life.

 

 

The second the door to Victor’s flat shut behind him, Yuuri was crushed against it, Victor’s mouth sealing over his.

Victor had been quiet on their cab ride, his brow furrowed and fists clenched.  Yuuri was starting to worry that he’d miscalculated, that Victor was mad at him. 

But Victor’s lips were insistent now, his thigh a firm line between Yuuri’s legs.  He angled Yuuri’s head and curled their tongues together.

“You,” he panted.  “Are _obscene_.  I can’t believe you did that.”

A pang of doubt struck through Yuuri’s confidence.  Had he gone too far?

“It’s not something I’d normally do, I just thought I’d surprise you and I wanted show you how much I liked my gifts, and—“

Victor nuzzled against his face, jerking Yuuri by the tie to cut him off.

“If that’s what dinner and some cufflinks gets me, I’ll buy you whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

Victor cupped Yuuri’s head and dragged his teeth across his bottom lip.  Rolling against him, he showed Yuuri the stiffness growing in his trousers.

“How are you hard again?” Yuuri asked on a breath.

“I’m twenty-eight, not dead.  And you’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised, considering how quickly you came in my mouth.”

Yuuri heard his words as if someone else had said them.  Victor pulled back, eyes wide.

“I…it wasn’t _that_ quick,” Victor said.

“It was a little quick.”  Yuuri wanted to staple his lips together.

“Wow.”

There was a long moment of stunned silence.  Yuuri couldn’t believe what he’d said, and it seemed Victor couldn’t either.

Then, something dangerous sparked in Victor’s eyes.

“I bet I can make you come faster.”

The taunt prodded at Yuuri’s competitive side.  He scratched his nails down Victor’s back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve broken your record.”

Victor’s mouth fell open, his brow climbing up his forehead.  It was the closest to affronted that Yuuri had ever seen him.

“Why _you_ —“

With two hands on his rear, Victor picked him up.  Yuuri wrapped his legs around Victor’s waist, his arms about his neck.  Their lips collided, all tongue and teeth and gasping breaths, as Victor carried him to their bedroom.  Makkachin barked at them on the way.

Victor kicked the door shut behind them and dropped Yuuri onto the mattress.  He attacked his suit buttons.

“Why don’t you worry about your own clothes and let me handle mine,” Yuuri said, slapping his hands away.

“Fine,” Victor growled.  “But hurry up.”

Once they were down to their underwear and Victor had hung their suits in the walk-in closet, he pounced on Yuuri.

“You have been very mouthy tonight,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

Victor shook his head, his fingertips trailing across Yuuri’s cheek and lips. 

“I have created a monster.”

Yuuri looked away.

“I don’t mean to be—“

“None of that.  Now, I believe a challenge was issued.”

In one swift move Victor slid down Yuuri’s body.  He yanked off Yuuri’s briefs, tossed them aside, and licked a long, wet stripe up his shaft.

Yuuri arched off the bed, fists clenching.  A tremor rocked through him.

“You said I came too quickly, but here you are, hard for me after just my tongue,” Victor said, amused.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“I wanted a challenge, Yuuri.  You’re making this too easy for me.”

Yuuri gaped down at Victor, cheeks hot.  He felt dizzy, arousal that had been building for far too long stealing his breath.  Victor laved at him with cruel swipes of his tongue.  It wasn’t nearly enough.

“Victor, please,” he said.

“Please what?”

“I want you.”

“I can see that.  Tell me how.  Say it out loud and I’ll give it to you.”

Yuuri’s ears burned.

“I want your mouth.”

“Why?”

“I want to come.”

“And?”

“And you’re the only one who can help me.”

A flicker of tenderness softened Victor’s eyes, before he bent down and sucked Yuuri’s whole length down his throat. 

Yuuri made a broken, keening sound, his hands flying up to cover his face.  Little of Victor’s movements resembled what he’d done to Yuuri on the couch a few days before.  Where he’d been gentle and coaxing then, he was insistent and ruthless now.  He seemed to gather every fiber of sensation and pull on them until Yuuri was overwrought, messy with need.

He pace was brutal in its consistency, his head bobbing without pause.  He seemed to know exactly where Yuuri needed to be touched, and how hard.

It was obvious that Victor had held back up until now, that he was more skilled than Yuuri imagined.  It was his own fault for underestimating him.

When Victor did eventually pull off, it was only for a moment.  He slipped two fingers into his mouth, coating them in spit, before swallowing Yuuri down again.  The tip of his moist forefinger skimmed behind Yuuri’s balls, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

Yuuri choked on air.  The world around him darkened at the edges, as Victor delicately circled his entrance.

“V-Victor, I’m—“

With one final thrust, Victor took him deeper than ever.  The tip of his finger slid inside.

Yuuri’s back bowed, a molten, painful pleasure turning his bones to glass.  He spilled down Victor’s throat, moaning.  He bit his lip until it split.

It was a long time before he came back to himself.

When he did, Victor was leaning over him, his eyes bright and cheeks rosy. 

“I win,” he said, entirely too pleased with himself.  “In more ways than one, since I just came twice in one night.  Sorry, by the way.  I couldn’t last after seeing you like that.  God, you’re lovely when you come apart for me.”

Yuuri felt raw, exposed.  He gazed up at Victor’s face, and thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

He’d loved Victor for a very long time, but never as he did at that moment.

Through the fog clotting his brain, he remembered that Victor hadn’t said what he always did when they were intimate.  Yuuri decided it was his turn.

“Tell me you love me,” he murmured.  He hardly recognized the sound of his own voice.

At first, Victor had no reaction.

Then his eyes started to shutter, the blush fading from his skin.

Abruptly, the blissful haze of orgasm was swept away.

“Victor?”

Breaking their eye contact, Victor slowly pulled away.

“I can’t,” he said.

And Yuuri’s whole body went cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being an asshole. Don't hate me, there's more to come soon! And maybe we'll actually learn what sort of skeletons Victor keeps in his gorgeous walk-in closet.
> 
> For those who are curious, there is actually an all-male (or at least mostly male) production of 'Swan Lake' that I based this off of. Watch it [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13_D0djH3jc&index=2&list=LL-VXSi1ggcJUXDCfKn-hlzA).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri couldn’t move.

A strange, icy shock settled over him.

Reality seemed too awful to be true, too absurd and painful to be taken seriously.  For a merciful moment, he was detached from it.  He had the oddest desire to laugh. 

Staring at the ceiling, naked and coated in a film of cooling sweat, he realized he’d forgotten to breathe.

He tried to inhale and his chest convulsed violently.  Sudden tears sprung to his eyes. 

The dam broke, a wave of hurt and betrayal and humiliation sweeping over him.

“ _What?_ ” someone said in his voice.  There was no reply.

Shaking, he forced himself to sit up. 

He was alone in the bedroom.

Covering his mouth, he muffled a sob.  A wrench of loss, of abandonment jolted through him.

Victor was gone.

At first, Yuuri couldn’t accept it.  There was no way Victor could say _that_ to Yuuri and leave. And after what they’d just done...

But he had.  He was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Yuuri shoved to his feet and staggered to the bathroom.  He barreled inside, slamming the door behind him and collapsing back against it.  He gasped for air.

How had he been so wrong about Victor, about what they shared?

The walls closed in.  His throat felt like it was swelling, burning.  He couldn’t breathe.  Nausea made his mouth water and his stomach heave.  He crumpled to the floor.

Victor didn’t want him.  Victor didn’t love him.  Everything had been a lie.  A trick.

How had been so foolish?  Someone like Victor would never want anything to do with Yuuri.  He was just another pathetic fan, no different than the ones swarming them all night.

And to think, he’d gone down on Victor in front of a crowded theatre.  He’d shown himself for what he truly was; a whore, desperate to sink to his knees in exchange for some cufflinks and a little bit of attention. 

He was disgusting.

Ripping his ring off his finger, he tossed it across the room like it was venomous.  It bounced off the wall and rolled right back to him, spinning several times before settling by his hip.

He glared down at it, vision blurry with moisture.  He couldn’t even do this one thing right.

With trembling fingers, he reached down to throw it again.

And just...stopped.

The tiles were cold beneath him, the tears hot on his cheeks.  His engagement ring glinted on the bathroom floor.

Everything was spinning out of control and he was letting it, facilitating it.  Victor wasn’t the one insulting him, telling him he was worthless, unloved, a _whore_.

It was him.  He was doing this to himself.

Yuuri decided that he didn’t want to anymore.

With a swell of resolve, of courage, Yuuri rose to his feet and flipped on the shower.  As soon as it heated up, he stepped inside.

The warm water was soothing.  It washed the shock from his skin, holding him in steam and reminding him of the onsen at home, where he was safe.

He took long, slow breaths and focused on shedding the tension from his bones.

There was nothing but his breath and the spray and the private quiet of the bathroom. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered to himself, over and over until it started to be true.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

With a rush of clarity, Yuuri realized that when he insulted himself in his own head, some warped part of him felt good.  After all, he was only saying what he deserved to hear.

But no one deserved to be talked to that way.  No one.  Not even him.

Fresh tears tumbled from his eyes but they were different from before.

When he finally allowed himself to think of Victor, his head was clearer, his heart slower.  He told himself to stick to the facts.  To logic.

He conjured the image of Victor in his mind and saw him smiling, eyes squinty and mouth shaped like a heart.  He was unable to quell a burst of fondness.  Victor was luminous when he was happy.

It was impossible to reconcile that vision of him with the cold, cruel person Yuuri had fathomed a moment before.  Sure, Victor could be clumsy with words, perhaps a little oblivious, but never malicious.

He also wasn’t a liar.

This was the man who had taken him at his lowest and given him confidence and strength.  He’d made Yuuri better, had stayed by him through anxiety attacks and self-doubt that most people couldn’t stomach. 

This was the man who had giggled and chased him around the couch, who had made him terrible meals and bought him tailored suits, who’d never pushed him beyond his comfort zone, unless he needed to be pushed.

He was the man who begged Yuuri to tell him he loved him over and over but couldn’t say the words in return.

In the absence of his own fear, Yuuri felt a new kind of worry.

What if Victor wasn’t okay?  What if all this had to do with his past, his hidden scars and here Yuuri was, isolating himself?

What if Victor needed him?

With a deep breath, Yuuri switched off the shower and stepped out.  After toweling off, he strode into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

He straightened his spine and eased open the bedroom door.

“Victor?”

The apartment was dark, illuminated by nothing but blue city light.

With cautious steps, Yuuri crept into the living room.  At first, he didn’t see anything and was about to turn into the kitchen, when a faint woof caught his attention.

He rounded the couch.

Victor was sitting on the floor with his head in hands, wearing nothing but his underwear.  Makkachin was curled up at his feet, his tail thumping against the floor when he looked up at Yuuri.

“Victor.”

Squatting next to him, Yuuri placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  He was shivering.  Yuuri grabbed a blanket off the couch and draped it over his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, words muffled by his hands.  Yuuri tucked the curtain of his hair behind his ear.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, it wasn’t okay for a moment, but it’s okay now.”

Victor shook his head.

“I know you.  What I said must’ve…”  His breath caught.

“It did.  And I handled it.”

Victor shifted his fingers just enough to reveal one bloodshot eye.

“You did?”

Sitting back on his rear, Yuuri got comfortable and sidled close to Victor’s side.  Makkachin rested his head on Yuuri’s knee.

“I’m proud of you,” Victor said.

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence.  Yuuri petted Victor’s hair, and waited.

“I ruined our date,” Victor said.  “It was going so well, and—“

“The date was over by that point.  I think we can still say it was a success.”

Victor’s hands fell away, revealing tear-stained cheeks.  He gazed at Yuuri with glassy eyes.  Yuuri had never seen him so vulnerable.

“Why are you being nice to me?  You should hate me.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, but you do owe me an explanation.”

With a shuddering sigh, Victor nodded.

“Why don’t you take Makkachin and get in bed,” Yuuri said, rubbing his thumb across Victor’s jaw.  He stood.  “I’ll make us some tea and be there in a moment.”

Victor blinked up at him, lips parted.  Nodding, he pushed to his feet.  When he swayed, Yuuri steadied him with a hand on his waist.

As Victor shuffled to the bedroom in a daze, Yuuri went about making tea.  It was a familiar process that always helped to clear his head. 

When he brought it to their bedroom, he found Victor propped up on his pillows, covers at his waist.  He winced when he saw Yuuri, as though he was afraid.  Makkachin grumbled from where he was balled up at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not going to yell at you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Yuuri said as he handed him a mug.  He climbed between the sheets and had a few sips of milky tea before he spoke.

“But I am going to ask you some questions, and you can choose whether or not to answer them.  Is that fair?”

Victor nodded, staring down at his mug with his lip between his teeth.

“If you choose not to answer, I understand and I promise I won’t be mad.  Okay?”

Victor nodded again.

“Alright.”  Yuuri decided to start small.  “When did you meet Yakov?”

Victor’s brow pulled down, as if he’d been expecting a different question.

“I…I met him when I was six.”

“How?”

“He saw me skating in the park.  He thought that I had potential, and offered to coach me.”

“Did you move in with him?”

“Yes.”

“Your parents were okay with that?”

Victor hesitated.  For a moment Yuuri thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“My father wasn’t around to notice.  My mother…”

Victor trailed off.  He sipped his tea, seeming to gather his resolve.

“My mother was not in a position to care for me anyway, so it was good for everyone.”

Yuuri took a moment to process his words.  He’d suspected that Victor’s parents weren’t in the picture, since he’d never seen them at competitions, and Yakov was so close to him.  He wondered what Victor meant by “not in a position,” but he didn’t want to push too hard too fast. 

Tension pulsed off of Victor, as if he was waiting to be struck.  Yuuri ached at seeing him so nervous. He liked when Victor was confident and carefree.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” he asked.

Victor started, head jerking to Yuuri.  He frowned at him, before his face started to smooth out.  His eyes sparkled.  Yuuri almost thought he was going to cry.

“Crème brûlée.”

“That’s a kind of ice cream?”

Victor’s mouth fell open.

“You’ve never had it??”

“I didn’t even know it existed.  Usually I just get whatever has the most chocolate in it.”

“I’ll take you on an ice cream date.”

Smiling, Yuuri reached over and squeezed Victor’s wrist.

“That sounds nice.”

Victor exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours.

“I know I don’t have any right to ask,” he said, “but can I kiss you?  I’d really—really like to kiss you.”

Yuuri didn’t answer.  He simply tilted over and pressed their lips together.  Victor whimpered into his mouth, cupping Yuuri’s cheek with a careful touch.  He didn’t take it any further, ceding control to Yuuri and accepting whatever he was given.

When Yuuri pulled back, Victor’s face was flushed, his pupils dilated and disbelieving.

“I still have more questions,” Yuuri said.

“I know.  I’m ready.”

“When was the last time you saw your mother?”

Victor’s throat bobbed, his eyes darting to the side.

“I was twelve.”

Yuuri schooled his expression into neutrality.  He was starting to form a theory.  He just needed a little more to be sure.

“What was the last thing you said to her?”

A huff of breath stuttered from Victor’s throat.  He shook his head and shut his eyes.

“I-I can’t answer that.  And I think you know why.”

Yuuri did.  It was why Victor couldn’t say three simple words, though he craved them in return.  It was why Victor showed his love, but could not speak it.

“Victor,” he said.  Blue eyes found his.  “I want you to know that if you never say them, it’s okay with me.  The things you do are enough.  More than enough.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.  Yuuri kissed his cheek.

“I don’t have any more questions right now, but I will.  Eventually.”

“I know.”

Yuuri let a calm silence fall over them, giving Victor time to collect himself.  He finished his tea before he spoke again.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

Victor sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“God, me too.”

They put their mugs on the nightstands, and laid down, facing each other.  Victor grazed his fingertips across Yuuri’s cheekbone, to his jaw and the side of his neck.  Sinking into the mattress, Yuuri realized how tired he was.  The day had seemed to last a lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said.

“I know.”

“It seems so stupid now.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Yuuri turned his head to kiss Victor’s palm.  He swept the back of knuckles across Victor’s cheek, pinching a tendril of silky hair between his fingertips.

Victor snatched up his wrist, pulling his hand away.  Yuuri flinched.

“Yuuri,” he said.  “Where is your ring?”

“Oh.  I, uh, took it off.”

Victor’s face fell.

“You took it off?”

“Yeah, but it’s just in bathroom.  I’ll go get—“

Victor threw himself from the bed before Yuuri could finish, striding into the bathroom.

“I don’t see it,” he called.

“It’s on the floor,” Yuuri said reluctantly.  Heat rose to his cheeks.

There was a long pause before Victor returned, staring down at the ring in his palm as he approached the bed.

“You must have been very upset to throw this on the floor,” he said as he slid between the sheets.

“I was.”

Victor exhaled a shaky breath.  His jaw clenched, throat bobbing.

“I almost lost you,” he said to himself.

With a firm grip, Yuuri dragged him close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pushing his knee between Victor’s legs.

“No you didn’t.  Not even close.”

“You took off your engagement ring,” he said into Yuuri’s hair.  His voice cracked.

“So did you a few days ago.  Now we’re even.”

Victor huffed a small laugh and Yuuri tilted back just enough to see his eyes.

“Let’s never do it again.  Okay?” he said.

“Okay.”

Yuuri kissed him.  There was nothing erotic in the press of lips and hint of tongue.  It was a reconnection, a balm for their wounds.  Yuuri inhaled Victor’s scent.  He soaked up the softness of his hair, the strong plane of his chest.

“Can I hold you?” Victor asked when they parted.  His eyelids looked heavy, his skin pale in the low light.

Instead of answering Yuuri turned over.  Victor’s arm hooked around his waist, drawing him back until they were fitted together.

“I love you,” Yuuri said.  The words were for him as much as for Victor, spoken without agenda or desire for reciprocation.

Victor didn’t answer.  Yuuri didn’t expect him to. 

But he did find Yuuri’s fingers with his own, and gently slip his golden ring back where it belonged.

 

* * *

 

As I wrote this I listened to a victuuri mix on spotify and this song came up.  It was so perfect for this chapter that I had to share:

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider this chapter the end of "act one" so to speak in this fic. Next chapter is gonna jump ahead just a bit.
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you! I love you like Victor loves Yuuri (though perhaps I'm a little better at vocalizing it ;D ).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you like Guang-Hong loves Leo-kun for their shared inability to livestream.

**ACT TWO**

 

_Two weeks later_

 

“I’m just saying, I think you’re pushing too hard,” Yuuri said as he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the wall.  Victor trudged into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the way.  Yuuri almost tripped over it when he followed him.

“We should order out for dinner,” Victor said, staring into the refrigerator.  There were dark smudges under his eyes.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Victor sighed.

“I always listen to you.  I just think you’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting.”                                                                          

“I told you; I’m fine.  How does Chinese sound?”

“Victor.”

“We should stick to vegetables and tofu, though.  I can’t eat like I did in Hasetsu if I want to—“

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri snapped, grabbing him by the arms and spinning him around. 

“What.”

“Do you want me to be your coach?”

Victor’s shoulders hunched, his tired eyes casting down.

“Of course I do.” 

“Then you have to at least try to do as I say.”

“I have to be ready for the European Championships.”

“I know, and you’re going to burn out if you don’t slow down.  Trust me.”

“I can handle it.”  Victor shrugged off his hands, grabbing a sports drink from the fridge and pushing past him to collapse on the couch.

Yuuri glared at the back of his head with arms crossed.

For the past two weeks Victor had been relentless, attacking his new programs until Yakov or Yuuri forced him to take a break.  The toll it was taking on him was obvious.  His hair was mussed, his cheeks pallid and eyes dull.  Yuuri knew his feet were covered in blisters and bruises.  A light breeze could knock him over. 

And though they’d still had some kind of sex every day since he’d started over-training, it was always followed by Victor falling asleep.  Yuuri was getting a little tired of cleaning them up on his own, and putting himself back together after his inevitable fallouts.

“If you want to call yourself his coach, then you need to make him rest,” Yakov had told Yuuri as they watched Victor claw through a triple lutz that afternoon.  “He gets like this when he wants to win, but he’s never had to put programs together this quickly before.”

“And you think he’ll listen to me?”

“I don’t think he’ll listen to anyone else.”

Yuuri had nodded and set his resolve.  He would try to convince Victor to slow down, and if that didn’t work, he’d use other methods.

“Order the food,” Yuuri said, tone cold.  Victor’s head snapped to look at him, but Yuuri was already turning away.

By the time Yuuri was done showering and dressing in sweats the delivery had arrived.  Victor was sitting at the kitchen table, eyes glazed, a plate of steamed vegetables and tofu untouched before him.

“Eat,” Yuuri said as he took a seat and assembled his own meal.

“I’m not really hungry.”  Victor frowned down at his food and blinked slowly, like he could barely keep his eyes open.

“I don’t care.  You have to eat.”

Victor started at Yuuri’s tone.  He picked up his chopsticks with unsure fingers and took a bite.

“Why are you being so snappy?” he asked, quiet.

“Because you don’t listen to me when I’m nice.”

“That’s not true.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

“Victor, could you please take tomorrow off?” he asked sweetly, caressing Victor’s knee.

“ _What?_   Of course not.”  Yuuri withdrew his touch and clenched his fist.  “I only have two weeks until the Championships—”

“If you don’t take tomorrow off, I will never go down on you again.”

Victor’s mouth dropped open, his eyes bulging.  Yuuri’s threat hung in the air between them.  Victor seemed to be waiting for him to take it back.

“You’re not serious…”

“Do you really want to take that chance?”

“But—but I _can’t_.  If I stop now, I’ll never be ready in time—“

“Fine,” Yuuri said as if it didn’t matter to him either way.

Picking up a spring roll, he licked the tip and dragged it across his lip before taking it into his mouth.   He moaned and glanced at Victor with hooded eyes.

He’d never seen him look more appalled.

“That’s not fair!”

Yuuri shrugged.

“Life’s not fair.  Eat your dinner.”

“You are unbelievable,” Victor said on a breath, but he ate until his plate was cleared.  Yuuri tried to mask his satisfaction and wasn’t very successful, judging by the deepening pucker in Victor’s brow.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Victor announced as he pushed to his feet.  He swayed, eyes rolling back.

Yuuri shot to his feet and grabbed his waist to steady him, flooded with sudden worry.  He held Victor until he found his balance.

Pinching Victor’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, he demanded his attention.

“Still don’t think you need to rest?”

“It was just a head rush.”

“You never get head rushes.”

“Sure I do.  You’ve just never seen me train before.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Victor swatted his hand away.

“I’ve managed to survive training for twenty years without you,” he said, turning away.  “I don’t need your supervision.”

A stab of hurt paralyzed Yuuri as Victor shuffled to the bedroom.  He stared at his retreating back and couldn’t seem to speak.

At the sound of the shower turning on, though, Yuuri’s resolve came back to him.

Hurt was swiftly replaced with irritation.  Victor was behaving like a brat, grumpy at being told what to do by the coach he’d agreed to have.  For all that Victor lauded Yuuri for being a good student, it seemed he couldn’t return the favor.  And it wasn’t like Yuuri didn’t appreciate Victor’s drive to have an impressive return to the ice.  He understood better than anyone, so why was Victor acting like his opinion didn’t matter?

Yuuri knew he was right, and he had Yakov’s support to prove it.

He’d just have to be creative if he wanted Victor to bend to his will, and maybe a little brave.

 

 

“Oh, Yuuri, you’re in here,” Victor said as he opened the bathroom door and noticed Yuuri on the bed beneath the covers.  “Listen, I’m sorry for what I—“

Victor cut off at the groan rumbling from Yuuri’s throat.  Yuuri bit his lip and shut his eyes, a blush burning in his cheeks.  For a brief moment he wanted to stop, to hide, but he let his frustration with Victor drive him.

His hand jerked under the sheets.  He felt rather than saw Victor’s eyes snap to the movement.

“A-are you—“

“Victor,” Yuuri gasped.  He slid two fingers into his mouth to muffle the sound, and sucked. 

Yuuri dared to open his eyes as he drew the digits from between his lips, and slipped them back in again.

“Holy shit,” Victor breathed.  His eyes were wide, his skin pink and hair dripping from the shower. 

With a hard pull, Yuuri arched off the bed.  Victor dropped the towel around his hips to the floor.

“Why’d you start without me?” he asked as he rounded the bed, naked.  Yuuri was pleased to see him growing between his legs.  It meant Victor wasn’t too tired to keep Yuuri’s plan from working.

“Stop,” Yuuri ordered when Victor tried to sit on the mattress beside him.  “You’re not allowed to touch me.”

Victor’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he found words.

“What?  Why?”

In lieu of answering, Yuuri snuck his spit-slicked fingers between the sheets.  He slid them behind his balls, down to his most intimate place.  He was sure to let every sensation show on his face.  Wet fingertips swirling, Yuuri shuddered, his breath carried on a whine. 

“Because I’m your coach,” he said.  “And you’ll do as I say.”

Victor looked stunned.  Whatever he was going to say didn't come.

“You’ve been a bad student, Victor.”  Yuuri applied a gentle pressure, quivering when the ring of muscle loosened at his touch.

“I’m…sorry, Yuuri.”

“Are you going to take tomorrow off?”

Victor’s expression flickered, his eyes darting to the side.

“No, I—“

“Then you’re not sorry enough.”

Yuuri threw the covers to the foot of the bed, revealing himself.  A swell of embarrassment, of exposure crawled over him, but was dulled by Victor’s reaction.  The breath punched out of him when his blue eyes traveled down Yuuri’s bare body.  He bit his lip and wobbled like his knees had gone weak.

“Yuuri, are you…”

“Fingering myself?”  His face was on fire and nerves fluttered, but he didn’t let it show.  He had to win this one or Victor was going to hurt himself.  Part of him preened at the idea that this was his duty as Victor’s coach, that he was the only one who do this for him.  “Not quite.  I don’t know how.  I wish I had help.”

“I can help,” Victor said eagerly.

“Can you?  Even though you won’t follow the simplest instruction?  Even though you’re exhausted?”

Yuuri watched as Victor fought some internal battle, his expression shifting from surprised to suspicious, to annoyed, and back to aroused.

“You’re manipulating me,” he said at last.

“Only a little bit.  Is it working?”

Victor licked his lips, his eyes darting to Yuuri’s hands.  Yuuri stroked himself and splayed his legs.

“Yes.”

Their eyes met, and the game was put on pause for a moment.  They felt connected, and Yuuri knew, through an almost psychic link between them, that he’d already won.  Victor had forfeited, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to play the game out.  It was a silent agreement. 

“Show me you can give me what I want, Victor,” Yuuri said, releasing himself and laying his hands on the pillow on each side of his head, palms up.  His hips squirmed.

“I’ll have to touch you to do that.”

“You can touch me,” he said, “but only with your hands.”

Victor looked disappointed, but he kept a few inches of space between them when he sat on the bed, leaning over Yuuri.  Slowly, he reached out and ran the tips of his fingers down Yuuri’s chest, grazing a nipple.

“There.  Touch me there.”

Victor applied the slightest pressure to his nipples with the pads of his thumbs.  He circled them, letting the edges of his nails drag.  Prickling heat spread through Yuuri from the contact.

“That’s enough,” Yuuri said, already oversensitive.  Victor took his hands away.  “N-now go lower.”

Victor’s eyes glinted.

“Lower?  You’ll have to be more specific, coach.”

While Yuuri’s confidence was hanging on by a thread, and Victor was testing him, hearing the moniker on his lips was heady.  It reminded him who was in charge, who Victor had trusted with his career and his body.  Yuuri was in control, and while he usually preferred for Victor to guide their sex, he was surprised by how much he enjoyed it.  He wanted to test, to prove their trust in each other.

“If you can’t figure it out we can stop,” Yuuri said.  “I was doing just fine without you.  I don’t need your _supervision_.”

Victor blinked.  For a second Yuuri was worried he’d pushed too far, then Victor’s features smoothed out.  A grin tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes hooding with desire and approval.

Bracing his forearm beside Yuuri’s head, he loomed over him.  Their mouths were a hairsbreadth apart but he was careful to heed Yuuri’s command not to touch.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Yuuri,” he murmured.  Yuuri tilted up, suddenly desperate for the softness of his lips.  Victor stayed out of reach.  “Tell me what to do, and I’m yours.  I only want to please you.”

“Kiss me,” Yuuri gasped.

Victor kissed Yuuri like he was trying to prove something, like he wanted show his skills, his competency.  His tongue was a searing pressure, the scent of him flooding Yuuri’s senses. 

“Put your hands on me,” Yuuri said, lips catching against Victor’s.

“Where?”

“Between my legs.”

“Here?” Victor asked, taking Yuuri’s length in a light grip.  Yuuri nodded, fisting the pillow under his head.

“Stroke me.”

As Victor obeyed, he kissed Yuuri’s cheek, his temple, the dip beneath his eye.  His rhythm was consistent and soon Yuuri was digging his heels into the mattress, sucking on his bottom lip.

“Want you inside of me,” he gasped.  “Your fingers.”

Warm breath puffed against his face.  Victor seemed to need a moment to process his request.

“Will you turn over for me, Yuuri?”

Shakily, Yuuri flipped over onto his front and canted his hips up.  He hid his burning face in the pillow.  He felt more vulnerable without being able to see Victor’s eyes.  It meant he had to trust him to read and understand Yuuri’s limits without expression.

Victor ran his hand down Yuuri’s spine.  His lips pressed to Yuuri’s ear.

“I’ll need to slick my fingers.  Is that okay?”

Yuuri nodded into the pillow.

He heard Victor pull open the drawer of the nightstand and take out the vial hidden within.  The sound of a cap popping open was loud in the quiet room.

“Ready?” Victor asked, mouth returning to Yuuri’s ear. He nibbled on the lobe.

“Just get on with it,” Yuuri snapped.  He felt like his skin was raw, the sheets beneath him unbearably smooth and stimulating.

“Whatever you say.”

Yuuri flinched when Victor’s fingers slid between his cheeks.  The contact was shockingly intimate, but when he recoiled his dick grinded into the bed, reigniting the heat in his groin.  He felt like he couldn’t escape sensation.  It overwhelmed him from all sides.

The tips of Victor’s fingers were tender yet insistent.  He coerced away tension with deft precision, as though he’d done this hundreds of times before.  Perhaps he had.

“Relax, Yuuri,” he whispered.  “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I’m supposed to be the one ordering you around,” Yuuri mumbled into the pillow.

Victor kissed the back of his neck.

“I’m still your coach.”

Yuuri looked at Victor over his shoulder with one eye.  He felt a little lost, the drive he’d felt to dominate leaking out of him with every caress.  It was all too new for him.  He didn’t know how to proceed.

“So it’s…okay if you take control for a little while?” he asked, timid.

A hint of a smile softened Victor’s features.  With his free hand, he found Yuuri’s fist on the pillow and held it.

“I told you.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

Tears beaded in Yuuri’s eyes.  He buried his face in the pillow.

“I need you to relax for me.  Take a deep breath and let it out slowly,” Victor said.  His voice was even.

Relief washed over Yuuri.  Victor had control.  Everything was new and frightening, but Victor wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

As he exhaled, Victor nudged with the tip of his forefinger, and it slipped inside.  Yuuri whimpered.  The only occasion he’d been touched in this way was the night of their ballet date a few weeks before, but it still felt like the first time.

“Victor,” he said, the word a plea for assurance.  He adjusted so that their fingers wove together.

“I’m here.”

With a delicate pressure, Victor worked the digit inside, until the fabric against Yuuri’s mouth was damp from his breath.  He rocked into the penetration, savoring the slide of Victor’s expensive sheets.  He ached with fullness and the need for more.  It was painful how desperately he craved, tears spilling from his eyes.

“You’re so tight, Yuuri,” Victor said.  “God, the look of you right now.”  He eased his finger out, and back in.  “I’d do anything for you like this.”

Yuuri canted his head and their eyes met.

“Anything?”

When Victor looked at his face he seemed startled.  Letting go of Yuuri’s hand, he wiped a tear off his cheek with the side of his thumb.

“Yes,” he said.

“Like take tomorrow off?”

Victor sighed.  He shook his head and looked up to the ceiling.

“Like take tomorrow off.”

The surge of victory filled Yuuri with sudden determination.

He dislodged Victor’s hand and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed.  Shoving him onto his back, he ignored his startled yelp and climbed on top of him.  Victor blinked up at him, eyes tired but no less striking. 

Exhaling through his nose, Victor relaxed beneath him.

“I win,” Yuuri said as Victor’s hands cupped his shoulder blades.  He was hard against Yuuri’s hip.

“Does this mean you take back what you said about never going down on me again?”

“Maybe,” Yuuri replied, smiling. 

Echoes of Victor’s intimate touch tingled inside him.  He felt a strange kind of emptiness, a need to be filled again.

“Victor, I—I want your fingers.”

“You can have them.”

“But I want to reward you too.  For doing what I asked.”

“Oh?”

With a rallying breath, Yuuri pressed their foreheads together.

“Don’t ever take your eyes off me,” he whispered, before pushing up onto his knees and turning until their bodies were perpendicular.  He bent over and licked a wet stripe up Victor’s shaft, blushing at Victor’s responding moan.

Trembling, Yuuri took Victor’s wrist and guided his hand to his ass.  Victor read his intentions eagerly, his fingers resuming their gentle ministrations.

It was difficult for Yuuri to catch his breath and focus.  Every little touch reverberated through Yuuri’s entire body, prickling down to the tips of his toes.

With a firm grasp on the base of Victor’s shaft, he guided the head into his mouth and sucked.

Glancing at Victor’s face, he found him staring, rapt, just as Yuuri had requested.  His lips were parted, his eyes dark.

“You’re perfect,” he said.  Yuuri preened, and took Victor into his mouth.

As his head bobbed, Victor eased his way inside Yuuri’s body.  He felt himself opening, both to the drag of Victor’s finger and the choking press at the back of his throat.

Then Victor found a spot inside him that made the world go white.  He pulled off with a gasp, his whole body shuddering through a sharp, unforgiving throb of pleasure.

“There it is,” Victor said, amused.

“What the hell was that?”  He glared at Victor, panting.

“What was what?” he asked, all fake innocence.  “Oh, you mean this…”  Victor traced the spot again and Yuuri almost levitated off the bed. 

When he came back to himself, Victor was smirking at him, his arm folded behind his head.  He was the picture of confidence.  It was annoying.

In one swift move Yuuri drove down, the crown hitting the back of his throat.  Victor’s back bowed, his hand finding Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri was unrelenting.  He took Victor deep, then pulled almost entirely off before sucking him down again.  Victor’s finger thrust in time with him, until Yuuri was loose enough that he could take two.

The addition of the second burned at first and briefly distracted him from his task.  He hummed a groan into Victor’s shaft that made his legs spasm.

Despite the initial discomfort, Victor was careful enough that it transformed into an edged kind of pleasure, more potent and raw than anything he’d felt before.

“Can’t stop imagining it’s not my fingers in you,” Victor panted.  Yuuri could tell from the hitch in his breath that he was close.  Pulling back, Yuuri jerked him in his fist, hard and fast.  Victor’s jaw dropped, his eyes dilating with impending orgasm.

“Yeah?” Yuuri said.  He tried to blink through the haze of his own arousal, Victor’s clever fingers turning his knees to water.  “What do you want?  Tell me.”

“I want to be inside you.  I want to feel you around me when you come.”

“Please,” Yuuri breathed.  A vivid image of Victor mounting him popped into his head, of his strong, lithe body covering him, fucking him.  A bead of precum dribbled down his shaft.  He needed to touch himself, soon. 

“Victor, I’m ordering you to come,” he said.

“Then don’t stop,” he said as he rolled into Yuuri’s fist.  He kept his eyes locked on Yuuri’s face, just as he was ordered.  To show his appreciation, Yuuri curled over and swallowed him down. 

“Fuck,” Victor said in Russian as he came against the back Yuuri’s throat.  He twisted up on the sheets and tugged deliciously on Yuuri’s hair.

As soon as he was finished Yuuri pressed his forehead to Victor’s hip and shoved his hand between his legs.  He stroked, hard.  Though Victor’s body was torpid with bliss and fatigue, his fingers never faltered, thrusting into him with brutal consistency.

“I’m gonna’--” Yuuri said just a few moments later, before spurting over his fist in a blistering orgasm.  Victor rubbed the spot inside him at just the right instant, driving his pleasure to the next level, over and over again until he collapsed across Victor’s body.

He looked up at him in a daze, and found him staring back.  Though he seemed utterly spent, he still held their eye contact.

Victor’s lips parted, and for a moment Yuuri half-expected him to request the three words he couldn’t speak aloud, but he didn’t.  He hadn’t since their date night.

Yuuri felt a pang of disappointment, then anger with himself for getting his hopes up, even for a moment. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he could find the bravery to say the words himself without Victor asking for them.  The last time he’d managed was also their date night, despite how desperately he wanted to whenever he was loose-tongued and needy post-orgasm.  They carried too much weight now, and part of him was embarrassed to give them so freely when Victor couldn’t.  They were associated with bad memories.  Victor needed what was best for his skating.

He watched Victor’s eyelids grow heavy, opening less and less with every blink. 

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Yuuri said, pinching him in the side and making him flinch.  “You have to get ready for bed.”

“You’re the one who told me to rest,” Victor grumbled as Yuuri crawled off him and got to his feet.

“Come on, it’ll just take a minute.  Don’t be a brat.”

“I’m not a brat,” Victor whined, sounding bratty.  He swung his legs over the side of the mattress.

When he stood, his eyes rolled back into his head.  He teetered on his feet, head lolling.

“I don’t—“ he said, before collapsing to the floor.

Yuuri dove across the bed, bouncing off it and landing on the floor at Victor’s side.  He dropped to his knees and took Victor’s face in his hands.

“Victor?  _Victor!_ ”

Victor mumbled in Russian, his blue eyes fluttering open.  He looked at Yuuri’s face hazily, like he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri said, frantic, as he raked Victor’s hair away from his face.

“I—I just got dizzy.”

“No shit!”

“It’s only a head rush.”

“Only a head rush.”  Victor tried to sit up but Yuuri pushed him back down.

“Let me up.  I’m fine, it’s passed now.”

Yuuri saw red.

“Have you lost your mind?  I told you that you were pushing too hard, but you wouldn’t listen and now look at you.”

“I told you; I’m _fine_ ,” Victor snapped, trying to extract himself from Yuuri’s grip with sluggish hands, pushing up onto his elbows.

“You just fainted!”

“And?”

“And you could have hit your head, did you think of that?  How the hell would you skate with a concussion?”

Victor frowned.  He didn’t answer.

“Are you listening to me?” Yuuri said, clasping Victor’s arm a little too tightly.  He felt nuts, brimming with frantic energy that needed release. 

Victor flopped back and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“I already told you I’m taking tomorrow off.  What more do you want from me?”

He sounded tired.  Not just physically, but with Yuuri for bothering him.  Something cracked in Yuuri’s chest.

“I want—I want you to—“  Yuuri covered his face in his hands, hating himself for the ache in his throat and the burn in his eyes.

Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“It’s okay,” Victor said.  “I really am okay.  I’m just tired.  After tomorrow I’ll be all better.”

Yuuri’s breath kept hitching.  He couldn’t seem to make it stop.

“Yuuri, why are you so upset?”

“Because I--“  _love you_.  The words got stuck.  It used to be so easy to say them, but things were different now. 

He was always emotionally vulnerable after they had sex, like he had to tear down the walls confining his anxiety to get close to Victor, but now was especially bad.  Seeing Victor faint had filled him with adrenaline and fear.  It had nowhere to go but inward. 

His heart pounded.  His palms grew dewy with sweat.

Then two hands took him by the shoulders and drew him down until he was held against Victor’s chest.  With scratches on the back of his head and down his spine, Victor quelled the storm inside him.  The soft cocoon of his skin felt like home.  The rekindling of their connection soothed his raw edges, a balm made of scent and warmth and the beat of his heart.

“I need to dust under the bed,” Victor said.  It was a statement at such odds with the tumultuousness a moment before that it dissipated the last of Yuuri’s panic, and he laughed.

“We should probably get off the floor first.”

“We will.  In a moment.”

Victor’s arms squeezed him tight, and Yuuri gave himself to the embrace, at least until they got too cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That reminds me...I should also probably dust under my bed...
> 
> You readers are a warm bowl of katsudon on a snowy April day. Feel free to come say hi on [my tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/) where I reblog a crapton of yoi fanart, and offer some updates and sneak peeks on this fic. 
> 
> I love you like Seung loves his own eyebrows.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you said "davai," I'd thumbs-up you so hard, you don't even know.

When Yuuri’s alarm went off the next morning he groaned into the back of Victor’s t-shirt.  He was warm, his arm wrapped around Victor’s waist and hips pressed to his rear.  It was agonizing to pull away and swipe his phone screen. 

While he was a little bitter that Victor would be in bed while he practiced, he was far more pleased that he’d be getting the rest he needed.  The image of him fainting was heavy in the back of his mind.

Tucking the covers over Victor’s shoulder, he climbed to his feet and dragged on sweatpants and a shirt.  He brushed his teeth and wrangled his hair into something less chaotic.

When he came back into the bedroom, he was surprised to see that Victor hadn’t moved at all.  Usually he was up faster than Yuuri, being a morning person who greeted every day like a holiday. 

Though he knew it was best to let Victor sleep, he was still unsettled.  He crept to the bed and pressed his hand to Victor’s forehead, startling when Victor’s skin burned beneath his palm.

“Victor?” he said, sitting on the bed beside his stomach.  He wove his fingers through silver hair and pushed it away from his face.  “Victor.”

Glazed blue eyes blinked open and found his.

“Yuuri?”

“Hey.  I was about to head out but you feel really warm.  Are you okay?”

“I’m sure I’m fine.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re lying.”

Victor blinked.  Yuuri was expecting him to disagree as he had the night before, even get annoyed, but he just looked confused.

“I guess I don’t feel very good.”

Worry sparked.  Yuuri was wide awake in an instant.

“What doesn’t feel good?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not helpful.”

“I’m sore all over.  My head hurts.”

“Your eyes are glassy.  Do you have a thermometer?”

“Nope.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“You’re really bad at taking care of yourself, you know that?”

“So you’ve said.”

Yuuri smoothed the back of his fingers across Victor’s hot cheek.  Eyes sliding closed, Victor sunk into the contact.  He reached up and held Yuuri’s hand to his face.

“You’re so cool,” he slurred.  Yuuri’s brow pulled together.

“Should I stay here?”

“I don’t want to keep you from practicing.”

Frowning down at him, Yuuri took in the dark circles under Victor’s eyes, the pallor of his skin.

“Why don’t I go for a couple hours and I’ll come back at lunch to check on you?”

Victor nodded, canting his head to kiss Yuuri’s wrist.  Yuuri hadn’t been expecting him to concede so readily.  It made him nervous.

After leaving some fruit and fresh water at Victor’s bedside, Yuuri made his way to the rink. 

He always enjoyed the quiet seclusion early in the morning before the other skaters arrived.  Usually it was only occupied by him and Victor, which was great, but part of him enjoyed having the whole space to himself.  It reminded him of his training in Hasetsu before he’d moved to Detroit.

Over the past couple weeks, Yuuri had slowly begun to integrate with the other Russian skaters.  It was easier to assimilate when he had a few hours of private practice beforehand, and he was starting to realize that they didn’t judge or dislike him.  After all, Yuuri was a quiet, serious skater.  He didn’t step on anyone’s toes. 

Victor was getting better at practicing and coaching at once too.  It helped that they only overlapped for a couple hours at a time, and that Yakov was starting to respect Yuuri for his work ethic.  Or perhaps Yakov just liked skaters best when they didn’t speak much.

Though Yuuri did not approve of Victor’s methodology, he had to admit that his new programs were coming along.  He could hardly tell that he’d taken an eight month break, and in some ways he was better than before.  Yuuri hoped he was at least partially responsible.

“Hey Katsudon!” Yuri shouted as he came into the rink.  Yuuri skated up to the railing and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. 

“Hey, Yurio.”

As he stretched, Yuri’s eyes darted around the room.

“Where’s Victor?”

“He’s taking the day off.”  Yuuri didn’t mention the fever.  Victor would want to keep that detail private.

“What?!  Really?  How did you pull that off?”

Yuuri blushed, shrugging.

“Gross,” Yuri said, pulling a face.

A moment later Yakov emerged from the locker room.  Yuuri watched him look around the rink for Victor.  When he didn’t find him, he locked eyes with Yuuri, and nodded.

Yuuri skated away to hide his smile.

By noon Yuuri was in a pleasant mood.  His muscles tingled with exertion, a cleansing sweat cooling his skin.  He was proud of himself for having a successful practice without Victor, though he did prefer his company. 

He said his goodbyes and made his way home, stopping at a pharmacy where he picked up a thermometer, painkillers, and candy for Victor.

On his walk to the flat, Yuuri passed by an ice cream shop.  He was a few strides beyond it when he paused, and turned around. 

 

 

Makkachin greeted Yuuri as he swung open the door to their flat, his tail wagging.

“I’ll take you out in a minute, buddy,” he said, dropping his skating gear and removing his coat.  Bag of supplies in hand, he went to the bedroom door and eased it open.

“Victor?” he said quietly.  Victor was curled up on his side.  The TV was on low across the room, playing some odd Russian infomercial.

“Yuuri?”  Blinking, his half-lidded eyes found Yuuri, and relief washed over his features, so profound it was alarming.

“Hey.  You don’t look so good.”  He walked to the bed and sat down near Victor’s stomach, sealing a palm over his forehead.  “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“You’re burning up.”

“I do feel a bit weird.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, but I missed you.”  Yuuri’s eyebrows went up.  Victor seemed different, more vulnerable.  Like his polite mask had cracked down the middle.

“I missed you too.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

A breath punched out of Victor like he’d expected a different answer.

“I have some stuff for you,” Yuuri said, digging through the bag on his lap.  “A thermometer because honestly, how do you not have one?  And some ibuprofen and I got you some candy but I have no idea if it’s good.  I just picked the most colorful ones.”

“Yuuri.”

“But!  None of that is the surprise.”

“Surprise?”

Yuuri pulled a carton out of the bag with a flourish.

“Crème brûlée ice cream!” he exclaimed, beaming with pride.  He felt like a genius for thinking of it.  “I know you’re on a diet for the Championship, but I figured—“

Yuuri yelped when Victor’s strong hands grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down, crashing their lips together.  He blinked, eyes wide, hardly realizing he was being kissed before Victor released him.

“I love—“ Victor said, and Yuuri’s heart shot to his throat.  Their eyes were linked, an intense feeling Yuuri couldn’t name flowing between them.  He didn’t breathe.

“I…shit,” Victor huffed at last, releasing him.  Yuuri straightened slowly, his cheeks flushed.  He fiddled with his glasses.

“Um—“

“I want to say them.  I need you to know that.  I want to say them all the damn time.  You have no idea how often I swallow them down.”

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond.  This was something he’d been dying to hear, but he couldn’t ignore the fever burning behind Victor’s eyes.  It felt like cheating to take advantage.

“I need to take Makkachin out,” Yuuri said, voice a little too loud as he stared down at the carton on his lap, trying to give Victor an escape.  “I was going to make miso soup for lunch, and then maybe you can have some ice cream, if you want, and we can watch a movie or you can take a nap or a shower if you feel like that will help.  I looked up the symptoms of fatigue on my phone and it seems like that’s what you have so the best thing you can do is rest and drink fluids and…yeah.”  He winced at his own rambling.  After a silence, he dared to glance up at Victor’s face to see his reaction.

He looked sad.  Eyes glistening, the corners of his mouth curled down.

“Whatever you want,” he said.  His voice was fragile, deflated.

Yuuri couldn’t stand it.  He reached out and cupped Victor’s jaw.  Leaning into his hand, Victor’s eyelids slipped shut.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Yuuri murmured.  “It helps.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We talked about this.  I told you, it’s okay if you never say them.”

“But I know it’s not.” 

Yuuri flinched.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you won’t say them either anymore.  I ruined it, and—“ Victor’s breath hitched.

“No, no,” Yuuri said, taking Victor’s face between his hands and touching their foreheads together.  He wished they weren’t having this conversation when Victor might not have full control over himself.  “It’s not that.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you can’t.”

“I know, it’s okay.  If you—“

“I really am sorry.”

“Stop that and just order me to say them.”

Victor blinked.

“What?”

“Order me to say them.  Like you used to.”

“I can’t do that to you--”

“Please?”

Victor took a deep breath, shuddering when he exhaled.  On a whisper he said “tell me you love—“

“I love you.”

All the tension fled from Victor like his strings had been cut.  He wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and brushed their lips together.

“I like when you ask me to say them,” Yuuri confessed.  He didn’t know it was true until that moment.  There was something about Victor needing him to say the words that made it easier.  Less embarrassing.

They kissed for a long moment.  There was nothing but their lips pressing together, Yuuri’s cool where Victor’s were hot. 

“So how does that miso soup sound?” Yuuri asked when they parted.

“Vkusno,” Victor said.  Yuuri smiled.

“Good.”

 

As Yuuri cooked, he felt like a weight had been lifted, the words he’d bottled up for weeks having finally been released. 

More than that, he found that he enjoyed taking care of Victor.  It made him feel useful to walk the dog and prepare lunch and take Victor’s temperature.  Tasks had always given Yuuri a sense of purpose and direction, but never so much as when Victor needed him. 

It didn’t hurt that he felt validated for his concern the day before either.

“Sit up,” he said as he came back into the bedroom, two bowls of soup in hand. 

Victor sat up against the pillows.  Wincing, his hand flew to his forehead.

“Headache still bad?”

“Only when I move.”

Yuuri snorted.

“Well the painkillers I gave you will help.”

Once he’d handed Victor his soup he settled against the pillows beside him.  Their arms bumped together.

“This is delicious, Yuuri, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Victor was silent for a moment.  When he spoke, his voice was soft.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Expect what?”

“I just thought you’d be mad at me all day.”

Yuuri sighed.

“I’m not mad.  Though part of me is a little annoyed with you for getting this bad.”

Victor’s chin dipped to his chest.

“I see.”

“But it’s only because I care about you.”

He watched Victor frown and take a sip of soup in the corner of his vision.  He seemed to be debating something with himself.

“I’m not used to this,” he said at last.

“To what?”

“Being cared for.  Having someone around to make sure I stop when I go too far.”

“What about Yakov?”

“Yakov is different.  Everyone is different from you.”

A flush rose to Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Why, because you actually have to listen to me if you want to have sex?”

Victor huffed a laugh.

“Sex certainly doesn’t hurt.  But I would’ve done as you asked without it.”

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck.

“Really?  Didn’t seem like it.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, clasping his wrist.  Their eyes met.  “There’s little I wouldn’t do for you.”

Yuuri couldn’t think, let alone find words.  The sway of fever was obvious in Victor’s eyes.  It softened him, exposed him.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” Victor said.  Tension shot up Yuuri’s back.

“What?”

“I’d wanted to be ready for the Russian Nationals not the European Championships, and I couldn’t do it.”

Yuuri almost dropped his soup.

“The Russian Nationals?  Are you insane?  Those are, what, two weeks after the GPF?”

“I thought I could handle it.  But you were in Japan and I couldn’t focus without you, and I lost more stamina than I realized.  I hated not being able to do it, Yuuri.  It’s why I’ve been pushing so hard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think it was your fault.”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Yuuri exhaled through his nose.  He took Victor by the chin and held his gaze.

“From now on you tell me every single plan that comes into your head, no matter how stupid.  Understand?”

“Is that your order as my coach?” Victor asked through a smile.

“It’s my request as your fiancé.”

The grin smoothed from Victor’s features.  He nodded once, eyes tired but sharp.

“I love hearing you say that, you know,” he said.  Yuuri’s heart pounded.  Looking back and forth from Victor’s eyes, he was lost to see the naked devotion in them, the unguarded longing.

“What?  ‘Fiancé?’”

Victor bit his lip between his teeth.  Yuuri traced his thumb across it until he released it again.

“Yuuri, I—“

“Eat your soup.  I know this is at least partially the fever talking.”

Victor pouted against his thumb.

“It’s not the fever.”

“Then just tell me what you were going to say when you’re better.”

Victor grumbled in response.

When they’d finished their soup, Yuuri took their bowls into the kitchen and scooped a few generous dollops of ice cream into an oversized mug.  Victor was almost asleep when he returned to the bedroom, his head lolling to the side and hands curled into fists on his chest.

“Want some ice cream or are you ready for a nap?”

“Ice cream, please.”

Yuuri was struck with a vision of Victor as a child.  He could easily see him being sweet and excitable but needy, starved for physical affection.  He ached at the knowledge that Victor did not have anyone to care for him then.  He couldn’t fathom Yakov bringing Victor ice cream in bed.

When Yuuri sat back against the pillows, Victor’s head tipped onto his shoulder and his fingers curled around his elbow.

Blushing, Yuuri took a spoonful of ice cream and brought it to Victor’s lips.  His mouth dropped open, and Yuuri slid the spoon inside.  His chest fluttered when Victor moaned around it.

“Have you tried it yet?” Victor asked.

“No, not yet.”

“I hope you like it.”

Yuuri took a bite and his eyes bugged out.

“This is awesome,” he said.  “It’s like vanilla, but…more.”

Victor nuzzled against the side of his neck, his hair soft on Yuuri’s jaw and the sensitive skin below his ear.

“I knew you had good taste.”

“Is that your underhanded way of complimenting yourself?”

“I can be less subtle, if you prefer,” Victor murmured, kissing a trail up the tendon in Yuuri’s neck.  His hand slid under Yuuri’s shirt, grazing his belly and making him twitch.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

Victor’s hand froze, his body going stiff.

“What makes you think I was looking for sex?”

“You’re not as ‘subtle’ as you think you are.”

Leaning up, Victor frowned at Yuuri until their eyes met.

“Okay, fine.  But why won’t you have sex with me?”

“Because you’re fatigued and the last thing you need is more exertion.”

Yuuri popped a spoonful of ice cream into Victor’s mouth, effectively cutting him off.  Victor swallowed, lips puckered, and Yuuri tried not to acknowledge how adorable he was.

“I managed just fine last night,” Victor pointed out.  Yuuri sighed.

“You can survive one day without having sex with me.”

“You’ve never had sex with yourself.  You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I’ve had plenty of sex with myself,” Yuuri said, and then blushed furiously. 

“If you’re trying to discourage me, that isn’t helping.”

Victor tucked his head into the bend of Yuuri’s neck.  Stuffing ice cream in his mouth, Yuuri hoped to cool the blush burning in his cheeks, but only managed to get a brain freeze.

After he fed Victor again, Victor tilted his head so that his lips were flush with Yuuri’s ear.

“Tell me, did you think about me any of those times?”

“Well your face was plastered all over my walls so it was hard not to—”  Yuuri slapped a palm over his mouth, his face searing.  He felt Victor startle beside him.  Squeezing his eyes tight, Yuuri prayed to be sucked into the mattress, never to be seen again.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.  Pretend I never said anything.”

Victor nipped his earlobe, lips dragging across his jaw.  Yuuri shivered at the touch of his fevered skin.

“Did you have posters of me, Yuuri?” he asked.  He sounded like he was having the time of his life.

Yuuri gulped before answering.

“Only a couple,” he said quietly.

“I bet you had dozens.” 

“I think it’s time for you to take a nap now,” Yuuri muttered, putting the mug on the nightstand and pulling away.

“Oh no you don’t.”  Victor ensnared him around the waist and yanked him down, flat on his back.  He threw a leg over Yuuri’s thighs and an arm across his chest.  With a kiss to his cheek, he sighed and settled in.

“Since you won’t have sex with me, the least you can do is nap with me.”

“I need to take a shower,” Yuuri said.

“Why?  You smell lovely.”

“I smell like I’ve been sweating all morning.”

“Exactly.”  Victor licked a stripe up the side of his neck.  Squirming, Yuuri tried weakly to pull away.

“Stop that!”

“Come on, Yuuri.  Aren’t you my biggest fan?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Not anymore.”

Victor trailed a playful finger down his sternum.

“Is that any way to talk to your idol?” he teased.  “Don’t you want to tell me about those fantasies you had?  When you touched yourself and saw my face looking down at you?”

“Victor!” Yuuri squeaked, slapping Victor’s hand away when it came dangerously close to his crotch.  He knew his face was bright red.  Wriggling, he freed himself from Victor’s grasp and stumbled to his feet.  He glowered down at him.  “You’re lucky you’re sick right now.”

“Oh?”  Victor shifted onto his back, sprawling out and letting his shirt ride up.  It took everything Yuuri had not to focus on the pale jut of his hips.  “And what would you do to me if I wasn’t?”

Looming over him, Yuuri grasped his chin in a firm grip.  Victor blinked up at him.

“I’d show you who the fan is between us, Victor.”  Victor’s breath shuddered through him, his glassy eyes dilating.  “But for now, I’m going to take a shower, and you are going to sleep.  I’ll join you when I’m done, if you’re lucky.”

With a shaky exhale, Victor nodded, and Yuuri flicked off the TV before leaving to take his shower.

When Yuuri finished, his hair damp and skin tingling with warmth, he came back into the bedroom.  Victor was sound asleep on his side. 

He didn’t stir when Yuuri crept back between the covers and slung an arm around him, sidling close.

 

 

Yuuri awoke to a groan, the body in his arms shivering violently.

“Victor?” he said, voice cracking as he propped up on his forearm.  He blinked the sleep from his eyes.  Victor’s face was scrunched up, his eyes squeezed shut as he mumbled in Russian.  Sweat beaded on his temple.

A word broke from Victor’s lips, clear amidst the muddle Yuuri could not translate.  Though Yuuri didn’t know much, he knew this word, and it stole the breath from his chest.

“Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a 2 AM fit of anxiety (shoutout to my guy Yuuri) I plotted out the whole rest of this fic, so that's good...? I'd wager there's like....I dunno, maybe 4 or 5 chapters left? (EDIT: this was a bold-face lie)
> 
> I wanna extend a special thank you to [Plaidshirtjimkirk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk) for being essential to the existence of this fic and for being my unofficial beta! You're just the best.
> 
> And as for you wonderful readers, I love you like Yuuri's mom loves body positivity.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you readers like Yurio probably loves Chopped.

“Victor, wake up,” Yuuri said, threading his fingers through Victor’s hair and planting gentle kisses all over his hot face.  

“Don’t go,” Victor mumbled in English.  His eyes hadn’t opened.  

“I’m not going anywhere—”

“Mom.”

Victor’s shoulders pulled up to his ears as he squirmed beneath the sheets, his head jerking back and forth.

“Shit, I…It’s okay.”  Yuuri didn’t know what to do.  Tightening his grip around Victor’s waist, he held him, hoping to quell the tremors wracking his body.  Yuuri had never seen anyone in distress like this, let alone Victor, who was always composed and even-keeled.  It was disturbing to watch.  He felt like he was violating Victor in some way by witnessing it.  “Come on, wake up.”

“Don’t do this to me—“

“ _Victor_.”

With a gasp, Victor’s eyes flew open.  His body stiffened, breath puffing from his mouth.  He looked lost, like he had no idea where he was.

Then his eyes found Yuuri’s.

“Yuuri,” he breathed. Spinning around in Yuuri’s arms, he buried his face against Yuuri’s throat.  His fingers dug into Yuuri’s back, leg pushing between Yuuri’s thighs as he clung like he wanted to crawl inside of him.

“You just had a fever dream,” Yuuri said, rubbing his back.

It was a long moment before Victor’s breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed.

“That sucked,” he mumbled into Yuuri’s shirt.

“Looked like it.”

With a shaky breath, Victor leaned back just enough to see Yuuri’s face.  His eyes glistened with tears that hadn’t been allowed to fall.

“I’m embarrassed,” he said.

“Don’t be.”

“Did I say anything in my sleep?”

Yuuri wished he hadn’t asked.  He couldn’t exactly lie, but he didn’t want Victor to feel any more vulnerable than he already did.

“You mostly spoke in Russian,” Yuuri answered honestly.  Victor winced.

“Mostly?”

Yuuri sighed.

“You might have mentioned your mom.”

The color drained from Victor’s face.  

“Oh.”

Tears spilled from his eyes and tumbled to the pillow, as if they’d been waiting for a chance to break free.  Victor seemed startled by them, wiping at his eyes frantically.

“Wow, haha.  That’s weird.”

“Victor.”

“Sorry, the, uh, dream must have…with the fever, and--“

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I know,” Victor said, his voice oddly loud in the quiet of the bedroom.  “I know.  Sorry, I just…I don’t feel so good.”

Victor covered his face with his palms.  He tucked his head under Yuuri’s chin, quivering as Yuuri held him.

“Want to take a cool shower?  You’re really hot.”

“No _you_ are,” Victor teased, words muffled.  His tone didn’t manage his usual playfulness.

“I’m serious.  Your fever is probably spiking.”

“You just think that because I’m crying in your arms.”

Yuuri paused.

“Uh…well…”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

“Right.  Yeah, you’re taking a cold shower.  Come on.”  

With gentle nudges Yuuri coaxed Victor from the bed.  He held him when he staggered to his feet and wobbled, nearly falling over.  Clutching his head, Victor hissed in pain.

“Still got that headache, huh,” Yuuri said, petting Victor’s hair as he gathered himself.  “You can get back in bed once your shower is done.”

“My _cold_ shower.  This isn’t going to be fun at all,” he grumbled as they shuffled to the bathroom.

“You’re Russian.  You can handle it.”

“But I’m already freezing.”

Normally, Yuuri would be annoyed by Victor’s whininess, but in the edge of his vision he could see the sweet downturn of his pouted lips, the tiredness that softened his eyes.  It was impossible not to find him endearing.

“I’ll get in with you,” he said.

“Really?  But you just showered.”

“I’d rather shower again than worry about you falling over and hitting your head.”

“I am a professional athlete,” Victor announced, like it made a difference.  Yuuri’s lip twitched.

“Of course you are.”

As Yuuri toyed with the shower handle, Victor leaned against the double sink with his arms crossed like he was trying to look casual.  His head bobbed.

“Don’t pass out on me,” Yuuri said.

“Yes, dear.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh.  Victor had never called him “dear” before.

“Alright, it’s ready.  Come here.”

With two firm hands on his hips, Yuuri drew Victor from the counter and pushed his briefs down his legs until he stepped out of them.  He tugged Victor’s shirt over his head and cast it aside, before shedding his own clothes.

Yuuri had never done something so intimate.  Sure, they’d undressed each other and showered together before.  Victor had even been _inside_ him, but none of that felt as personal as stripping away his clothes when he was too feverish to do it himself.

Yuuri helped him step into the shower and Victor gasped as the cool water hit his back.  He clutched at Yuuri, snaring his arms around his neck.  Yuuri didn’t mind the temperature since he’d been working out all morning, but Victor couldn’t acclimatize to it.  Shaking in Yuuri’s arms, he tightened his grip when Yuuri took a step, easing him further under the spray.

“I was right.  Not fun at all,” Victor said, teeth chattering.

“It’s not even that cold.  And not everything has to be fun.”

“Showering together usually is though.”

“I promise we’ll take a fun shower when you’re better.”

With Victor still clinging to him, Yuuri picked up the soap and lathered it.  He smoothed his palms down Victor’s back, washing him until the tension bled from his muscles.

“See?  Not so bad.”

“You’re so lovely,” Victor mumbled against the side of his throat.  Yuuri paused in his ministrations, unsure of how to respond.  Victor was usually forthcoming with praise but it always felt tactical, calculated.  Now it seemed to spill from him like he was too tired to hold it in.  “Why are you doing this for me?”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.  You’re my favorite person, did you know that?  And you’re my best friend.”

Swallowing and trying not to react, Yuuri squirted shampoo into his hands and kneaded it into Victor’s scalp in an effort to distract him.  Victor pressed his forehead into the arch of Yuuri’s shoulder, going boneless.

“That feels so nice,” he said, groaning.

“Just keep your eyes shut so you don’t get soap in them.”

“She left me,” he muttered.

Yuuri froze.  For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d heard Victor correctly, but then Victor spoke again.

“She left me.  Why would she do that?”

“Victor, I need to rinse your hair.”

With hands on each side of his jaw, Yuuri lifted Victor’s head from his shoulder and angled it into the spray.  Victor kept his eyes shut as the suds were washed away.

When he opened them, his gaze locked with Yuuri’s.  

“I’m saying too much, aren’t I,” he whispered.  Yuuri dragged his thumb across the arch of Victor’s cheek.

“Not to me, but I don’t want you to regret this when you’re better.”

“I should have told you everything a long time ago.”

“You should only do what feels right.”

Victor stepped closer and kissed the dip below Yuuri’s eye.  He nuzzled their temples together, hands finding Yuuri’s hips.

“You feel right.  Can I do you?”

Yuuri groaned, rolling his eyes so hard he gave himself a head rush.  He slapped Victor’s ass, making him yelp and jerk against him.

“Your pick-up lines are even worse when you have a fever.”

“My pick-up lines are amazing.”

Ignoring him, Yuuri flipped off the shower.  He grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and wrapped it around Victor’s shoulders.  Rubbing his hands up and down Victor’s arms as he shivered, he dried him.

“Think you can sleep again?” he asked.

“Oh yes.  In fact I’m having trouble standing.”

“Thought so.”

After leading Victor back into the bedroom and sitting him at the foot of the mattress, Yuuri fetched him some pajamas.  He blushed as he slid clean briefs up Victor’s muscled thighs, though not from any sexual implication.  Putting Victor’s clothes on was even more intense than taking them off.

When Victor was sufficiently clothed and no longer shivering, he climbed back beneath the covers.  Yuuri got him a fresh glass of water and some painkillers.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor said.  Tucking the duvet over his shoulder, Yuuri smoothed his fingers through Victor’s damp hair.  “I’m sorry I did this to myself.”

“It’s okay.  Just try not to do it again.”

“I’m going to be better for you.  I…I’m sorry for what I was saying, about my m—“

Yuuri cut him off by pressing a few fingers to his lips.  He’d already let Victor say too much, in case he was embarrassed once the fever broke.  The last thing he wanted him to do was apologize.

“Get some sleep,” he said.  He dressed and left the room.

 

For all the time Yuuri spent in Victor’s flat, he knew little of it beyond what tools Victor had, or rather _didn’t_ have, in his kitchen.  As Victor napped, Yuuri took the time to explore.  Makkachin followed at his heels until he decided his dog bed was more interesting than whatever Yuuri was doing.  Or perhaps he realized food wasn’t imminent.

Something Yuuri hadn’t given much thought to was the sheer volume of books Victor owned.  He didn’t know how Victor had time to read given his strenuous skating regimen, though he supposed Victor did a lot of traveling.  Still, he didn’t recall seeing Victor read in Hasetsu.

But there he was, staring at shelves upon shelves of books of all varieties.  From history to science fiction, to romance and comics, Victor seemed to have it all.  There weren’t just Russian books either.  He also had a large collection of English and even French novels.

Yuuri grabbed the first translatable book that interested him, something about a prince who’d been captured, and cuddled up on the couch to read.  Makkachin padded over and jumped up, sprawling out on his legs.  With a contented sigh, Yuuri snuggled into the couch cushions.

St. Petersburg was starting to feel like home.

 

Several hours later, the bedroom door creaked open, startling Yuuri out of the world of his book.  He craned his neck around.

“Victor,” he said, surprised.  “How are you feeling?”

Yuuri absorbed the look of him, from his mussed hair to the pair of pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips.  The color had returned to his skin and his eyes were sharp, even across the room.

“Much better,” he said with a strange smile.

“That’s great.”  Yuuri pulled his feet out from under Makkachin and stood.  He walked up to Victor and pressed the back of his hand to his cheek.  “Seems like your fever broke.”

Victor tilted his head away from Yuuri’s touch.  Retracting his hand, Yuuri felt a stab of rejection.  He tried to catch Victor’s gaze, to read his mood, but Victor wouldn’t look him in the eye.  His expression remained oddly pleasant.  It was a face Yuuri recognized.  It was the one Victor used with strangers.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked.

“Nothing at all.  Want to order out for dinner?”

“Oh.  Okay.”  

As Victor strode past him, Yuuri frowned at the floor and clenched the book in his hand.  Victor felt like he was a million miles away, like he hadn’t just latched onto him in a cold shower and let himself be dressed.  

This wasn’t his fiancé.  This was the man who had asked him for a “commemorative photo” with a fake smile, who looked at him like he was just another fan.

With a deep breath, Yuuri turned and followed Victor into the kitchen where he was pulling a coconut water from the fridge.

“Victor?”

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know, we don’t have to talk about anything that happened when you—“

“Then why are you talking about it now?”  His tone was cordial, flippant, but Yuuri still flinched and stepped back.

“Right.  Sorry, I’ll just—“

“No, wait.  Please.” Victor said, grabbing him by the elbow.  Yuuri watched his polite expression flicker, and he caught a glimpse of vulnerability, of desperation.  Fear.  “I’m sorry.  You’ve been so good to me, I just...I can’t think about it right now.”

Taking Victor’s chin in his hand, Yuuri demanded eye contact.  Once he got it, he held Victor’s gaze until the connection between them was rekindled.

“I understand,” he murmured.

Victor’s lips parted, his eyes glistening with something intense and unnamable.

“Yuuri,” he said simply.

“What do you want to eat?”

 

 

The next morning Yuuri awoke to an empty bed.

His immediate reaction was panic, a rush of adrenaline shocking him into wakefulness.

“Victor?” he said, sitting up and looking around the room.  The bedroom door was ajar, but he didn’t hear anything beyond it.  No patter of dog paws, no response from Victor.

“Shit,” he breathed.  A torrent of worst-case-scenarios flooded his brain.  Had Victor freaked out over his confessions and left?  Had he gone to practice without Yuuri, where he might push too hard again?  What if he felt like Yuuri had violated him in some way?  His throat felt tight, his palms started to sweat.

Then, something caught his eye:

A small piece of paper folded in half on Victor’s pillow.  

With trembling fingers Yuuri picked it up.  He steeled himself with a deep breath and folded it over, reading the small note written inside.

 

             愛してる

 

Gasping, Yuuri slapped his palm over his mouth, his eyes blowing wide.  He read it over and over and over again, unable to believe that Victor had left this for him.  But the shaky scrawl was the obvious work of someone who didn’t know the language they were writing.  Yuuri could sense Victor in the ink like an essence.

He tried to throw himself from the bed but got tangled in the covers.  Kicking and squirming, he struggled in vain to free himself.  A familiar figure appeared in the doorway.  Yuuri froze.

Victor leaned casually against the doorframe, a mug in his hand.

“V-Victor,” Yuuri croaked.  He couldn’t find more words.

“It’s time for practice.  You should probably get up,” Victor said, taking a sip of his coffee.

He shot Yuuri a wicked, perfect wink and turned to leave like nothing had happened.

“Wait,” Yuuri said, finally managing to free himself and stumble to his feet.  Victor looked at him over his shoulder as he approached, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Sliding his hands around Victor’s hips, Yuuri leaned close and whispered in Victor’s ear.

“I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fever!Victor has no chill.
> 
> He...hehe...
> 
> ......I'll just see myself out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cried in the car listening to the beauty of "Stay Close to Me" on my way to get groceries, so it's that kind of day.
> 
> (it's like this every day. never gonna' give you up, yoi)

Yuuri stared, rapt, as Victor glided through his free skate. 

Though it had only been a few days since the fever, Victor looked like a new skater.  His motions were fluid, seamless, and he had a presence that Yuuri hadn’t seen in him before.  It was proof that Yuuri had been right to ease him back into practice.

Gripping the half wall, Yuuri blushed as Victor came to the segment that represented Yuuri entering his life.  At first, Yuuri had been flustered by Victor’s choice to make a program parallel to his own, but “Victor On Ice” as he called it, had swiftly become his favorite of Victor’s programs.

It was personal and honest, showcasing Victor’s greatest strengths by baring his deepest vulnerabilities, in a language only Yuuri could fully comprehend.  Tears rose to his eyes and he sniffed to hold them back.  He couldn’t ignore how much of himself was in Victor’s routines.  It was as much of a declaration as the note he’d found a few days before.

With a flourish, Victor spun into his final pose: one hand on his heart, the other extended to his coach.  Their eyes locked.

Biting his lip, Yuuri tried to mask his emotions, but judging from Victor’s reaction he didn’t quite manage.  A sweet smile curled Victor’s lips.

As Victor skated over, Yuuri ducked his head.  Victor skidded up and pressed their temples together.

“You’re flushed, darling,” he said, breath puffing against Yuuri’s skin.

“Shut up.”  Yuuri gave him a light shove.

“Did you like it?”

“You know I did.”

Victor sighed.

“I do wish I’d been ready for Russian Nationals,” he said quietly.  Yuuri clasped his arms.

“It wouldn’t be this good.  You would have rushed.  And I wasn’t your coach then.”

Victor looked at him.  He was smirking, eyes sparking with playfulness.

“You won your own nationals, though.”

“What does that matter?  I didn’t have to make new programs as quickly as you.”

“Oh Yuuri, how can I ever compare to you?” Victor teased, posing dramatically with the back of his hand across his forehead.  “My own fiancé is much too good for me.  He doesn’t even need me like I need him.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“You’re a five time world champion.”

Victor leaned in as if he was going to kiss him, but stopped with a sliver of space between them.  Yuuri slanted towards him.  Victor stayed just out of reach.

“But you have broken my record, Yuuri,” he said, low.  “I can _never_ compete with your—“

“You both suck and I won everything, so quit fake-arguing and get off the ice,” Yuri barked as he skated past.

After a pause, Victor said, “Whatever you say, Yurio,” which was predictably met with a “don’t call me that.” 

Victor kissed Yuuri and left the rink.

 

When Victor emerged from the locker room, he was dressed in a tight black shirt and gray slacks, his coat slung over his elbow.  Yuuri couldn’t help but admire the shape of him as he approached, the intrinsic confidence in his posture and the sway of his hips.  His eyes were strikingly blue in the white light of the rink, his cheeks rosy.

Yuuri swallowed back an ache of desire as Victor laced their fingers together.

“I have an idea,” Victor said.

“Uh oh.”

“Why do you assume it’s something bad?”  He stuck out his bottom lip petulantly.  “I just want to take you on that ice cream date we talked about.”

“Haven’t you had enough ice cream?”

Victor’s shoulders hunched.  He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and toed the floor.

“Pleeeease?”

Yuuri huffed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be making sure I eat right?  You know I gain weight easily.”

“It’s just a little ice cream,” Victor murmured, stepping close and grazing his lips across Yuuri’s cheek.  Yuuri twitched as a kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth. 

“Okay, fine, but I’m making a salad for dinner.”

A beaming smile lit up Victor’s face.

“Great!  I’ll take you to my favorite spot.”  He pivoted and bounded for the door.

“Wait,” Yuuri said, grabbing Victor by the arm and spinning him around before he could get far.  “Is this going to be like the restaurant?  Where everyone knows who you are?”

Victor frowned.

“I suppose the people who work there know me but it’s only because I’ve been there a lot.”

With a deep breath, Yuuri shook his head, fortifying himself against the thought of more fans fawning over Victor.

“We can just go home if you—“

“No, it’s fine,” Yuuri said, straightening.  He looped his arm through Victor’s.  “Take me on a date.”

 

The ice cream shop was unlike any Yuuri had visited in Japan or Michigan.  The walls were tangerine and covered in art, the windows lined with string lights.  There was a stone bar with a backsplash of stacked Russian glasses, and small, round tables with lanterns at their centers.

“This looks more like a café than an ice cream shop,” Yuuri whispered, tightening his grip on Victor’s forearm as all eyes swiveled to them.  The attention made his stomach churn.

“It is a café, but they happen to have the best ice cream in the city.”

As they waited in line, Victor draped his arm across Yuuri’s shoulders and leaned into him.  Yuuri knew the show of possession was for Yuuri’s benefit.  Victor was trying to deter ogling patrons, and Yuuri was infinitely grateful.

“I think I have made an error,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s hair.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re far more appetizing than the ice cream.  I should have taken you home instead.”

A blush climbed from Yuuri’s chest to his cheeks.  He felt a hint of Victor’s tongue against his ear.

“You can take me home after.”

“I don’t know if I can wait,” Victor said, words little more than a puff of breath.  “I want to put my mouth all over you, taste you everywhere.”

“ _Victor_ ,” Yuuri hissed.

“I wonder how long I’d have to lick you for your legs to start shaking.  I love when they do that.  Perhaps I’ll do an experiment.”

“M-maybe we should just leave.”

“Mmm….yes, I—“

Someone tapped on Victor’s shoulder.

“Victor?”

They both spun around and Yuuri heard Victor’s breath hitch.

“Alexei,” he said, eyes widening.

The man standing before them was shockingly handsome, his face chiseled and framed by a slick crop of dark hair.  His eyes were probing, his mouth curved in a confident line.  The sharp lapels of his coat were vaguely threatening.  He spoke to Victor in Russian, and didn’t acknowledge Yuuri’s presence beyond a curt glance. 

Yuuri disliked him instantly.

In his periphery, Yuuri watched Victor’s expression shift into his familiar polite mask.  His arm had slipped from Yuuri’s shoulder when he turned.  The back of Yuuri’s neck prickled.  While he couldn’t understand what the stranger was saying, something about his tone set his teeth on edge.  Victor was uncomfortable despite his smile, and Yuuri didn’t like it.

Discretely, he touched Victor’s fingers.  They were trembling.  He glared back at the man responsible and found him staring at their clasped hands with narrowed eyes.

“This is Yuuri,” Victor said in English.

“I know,” the man called Alexei said.  “I watch the news.”

“Ah.  Right, of course.”  The quake in Victor’s voice would have been hidden to anyone but Yuuri. 

“I’m his fiancé,” Yuuri stated, surprising even himself.  Some primal compulsion had made him say it, and though he could feel heat rise to his cheeks, he didn’t regret it.

“Victor,” Alexei said with feigned surprise.  “How… _unusual_ for you.”

Victor huffed a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh…I suppose everyone--I mean we all find the one person who—“

“You see, Yuuri, when Victor and I were together, the very mention of marriage would have sent him running.”

Yuuri’s heart jumped.  This man was Victor’s ex? 

He absorbed the look of him with a new perspective, and quickly came to the conclusion that they had nothing in common.  If this man, who was tall and brazen and exotically handsome was Victor’s type, what was he doing with someone like Yuuri?

Victor cleared his throat.  His hand grew sweaty in Yuuri’s grasp.

“We weren’t exactly—”

“Together.  Yes, that’s right.  You could never handle being with anyone back then.  I guess people really do change.”

“It’s not—”

“Congratulations, of course,” Alexei interrupted with a sharp grin.  “I do hope this one lasts.”

Yuuri’s teeth grinded together.  He glanced at Victor.  Though his smile was still in place, his ears were red and the corner of his lip twitched. 

Alexei had a smug curve to his mouth, as if he’d been waiting for years to corner Victor as he was now.

Yuuri couldn’t stand it.

“Did you want an autograph?” Yuuri heard himself say.  Alexei’s smug expression flickered.

“What?”

“Well, you seem like a fan, and you said you’d been following us on the news.  Are you looking for an autograph?”

Alexei looked like he’d smelled something foul.  Yuuri felt a wicked surge of satisfaction.

“No, of course not,” he sputtered.  “I just said Victor and I were together, didn’t you hear?”

“Oooh, I thought I heard that you _weren’t_ together.  Sorry, maybe my English isn’t that good.”

Alexei looked murderous.  Victor, however, was gaping at Yuuri, mouth open and eyes wide.

“It was nice to meet you,” Yuuri lied.  The dismissal was obvious.  Alexei straightened and clenched his fists, glowering at Yuuri.

“Yes, I must be going.  I’m very busy,” he said.  With a short nod to Victor, Alexei stepped out of the line and left, his coat swishing behind him.

Facing forward, Yuuri and Victor closed the gap they’d left in the line.  Victor was silent, his eyes cast down to the floor and a furrow in his brow.

They didn’t speak as they waited.  Yuuri could feel Victor receding into himself with every passing moment.

By the time they’d ordered their ice cream, Yuuri was vibrating with tension.

“Let’s just take it home,” Victor said.  His tone was cordial, but distant.  Yuuri knew it was a bad sign.

 

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked as they walked back to the flat, taking a bite of his chocolate ice cream.

“I’m great,” Victor said.  “I have ice cream.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem a bit off since we saw your ex.”

“He wasn’t my ex,” Victor snapped.  He winced at his own volume.

“So, what, he was just a hook-up?”  While Yuuri didn’t want to push too hard, he couldn’t deny his curiosity.  The man had made Victor uncomfortable, and was rude to Yuuri.  He deserved to know at least some of their history.

“Can we talk about this at home?” Victor asked, overly polite.

“Sure.”

For the remainder of their walk, Yuuri analyzed what had happened.  It was obvious that Victor’s experience with Alexei was negative and vice versa, likely due to some sort of commitment issue on Victor’s part.

It seemed odd that Victor would have trouble diving into something serious, when he’d changed his whole life to be with Yuuri over some drunken strip tease and a youtube video.  Yuuri couldn’t fathom what made him special. 

As they entered the flat, Makkachin greeted them.  Victor pet him as he always did, but it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Alright,” Yuuri said, peeling Victor’s coat off him and hanging it up.  “Let’s get this over with.”  He took Victor’s hand and led him to the couch, pushing him down onto it by his shoulder. 

Straddling him, Yuuri took Victor’s face in his hands and demanded his attention.  Victor blinked up at him, stiff, but he soon sunk into the cushions.  He rested his palms on Yuuri’s thighs.

“What do you want to know,” he said.

“How long ago were you together?”

“We weren’t—“

“Okay, fine, how long ago were you having sex with him?”

Victor blanched.

“I…we…”  The breath punched out of him.  “Three years ago.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He was a friend of a friend.  I realized too late that he was more of a fan than a peer.”

Yuuri frowned.  He felt a stab of regret over telling Victor about the posters.

“You’re being silly,” Victor said, as if reading his thoughts.  He tucked a strand of hair behind Yuuri’s ear and tapped him on the nose.  “I know what you’re thinking.  I’m as much your fan as you are mine.  It’s not the same.”  Victor shook his head, head tipping back.  “I can’t believe you asked him if he wanted an autograph.”

“He had it coming.  Or at least, it seemed like he did?” Yuuri asked, suddenly unsure.

“He did.  His interest in me had more to do with my persona than my personality.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but think of a conversation they’d had in Hasetsu, where he’d told Victor on the beach that he just wanted him to be himself.

“It looked like you didn’t end things well.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Why?”

Victor bit his lip and seemed to debate something with himself.  He met Yuuri’s gaze.

“He wanted it to be official.  I didn’t.  I didn’t want things to be official with anyone.  Skating always came first.”

“And yet you got engaged to me after only a few weeks of dating.”  Heat flooded Yuuri’s cheeks.  He forced himself to hold their eye contact.  “You gave up your career for me.”

Victor gripped Yuuri’s hips.

“I told you.  You’re different.”

“Have you ever been in love before?” Yuuri blurted.  He clamped his hands over his mouth, cursing himself for prying.  He’d pushed too hard. 

“Yuuri,” Victor said.  With a gentle hold on Yuuri’s wrists, he drew his hands away from his face.  “There’s only ever been you.”

His words hit Yuuri like an electric shock.  He stared at Victor, unmoving, mind blank, as his knowledge of Victor rearranged around this new information.  A long moment passed, the tension only breaking when Victor started to frown.

With a burst of sudden determination, Yuuri grabbed Victor by the shirt and dragged him to his feet.  Victor squeaked, but let himself be manhandled.  Shoving Victor toward the bedroom, Yuuri pursued him like a predator.

“Take off your clothes.  Now,” he ordered, stripping as he walked.

He was overcome with some strange, new fire, the need to possess and surprise inundating him.  Victor was his.  Only his.  No one else could have him.  Not even Russians with greasy hair and stupidly good bone structure.

When they reached the bedroom, Victor moved to climb on the mattress.

“No.  I want you in the shower.”

Victor nodded.  He had that rare, dazed expression he wore only when Yuuri was truly catching him off guard.  Yuuri wanted to pursue it, to push until Victor was speechless and flushed and desperate for him.

He wanted to prove why he was the only one worthy of Victor’s love.

By the time they made it into the bathroom Yuuri was down to his briefs, but Victor was still struggling with his shirt, his fingers clumsy.  Victor’s hands were shaking when Yuuri clasped his knuckles to stop him.

In one swift move Yuuri tugged the shirt the rest of the way off and cast it aside, before peeling away Victor’s small, black underwear. 

Nothing of the encounter resembled the last time he had undressed him in the bathroom, when Victor was weak with fatigue.  Where he’d been coercing and gentle before, he was dominating and demanding now.  Yuuri needed Victor naked.

“Turn on the shower,” he said, as he stripped the last of his own clothes.  He hardly recognized the sound of his own voice.

As Victor obeyed, Yuuri soaked up the look of him.

His face and neck were flushed, his limbs trembling.  Yuuri dragged his eyes from the lovely nape of his neck, to his chiseled back and the perfect swell of his ass.  He examined Victor’s body as a lord might survey his kingdom.  The privilege to see and touch and taste was his and his alone.

“I think the water’s warm enough,” Victor said.  He sounded timid for perhaps the first time in Yuuri’s acquaintance with him.  Yuuri felt powerful.

“Then what are you waiting for.  Get in.”

Yuuri didn’t wait for Victor to comply.  He crowded him into the shower, pushing him under the spray and crashing their lips together.

There was no build-up in the kiss, no time to gradually fan the desire between them.  Yuuri shoved his tongue into Victor’s mouth, using his hold on the back of Victor’s head to angle him into opening. 

Victor kept whining into the kiss in small, aborted sounds that washed over Yuuri like pheromones.  He nipped Victor’s bottom lip, scraped his nails down Victor’s spine and grabbed his ass.  He kneaded the flesh on a strong grip, pleased when Victor’s whines turned into moans.

“Yuuri,” he said on a gasp.  “I’ve never seen you so—”

“I need you clean,” Yuuri said, ignoring whatever Victor was going to say and grabbing the soap.  As Victor clung to his shoulders, just as he had when he was fevered, Yuuri lathered up his back, his armpits, his rear.  He washed every crevice he could reach, not shying away from the staggering intimacy of it.  Victor didn’t stop him, but he knew from the way his breath was hitching that he felt barriers breaking too.

Once Yuuri was satisfied that the sweat from Victor’s workout was gone, he sucked a kiss into Victor’s neck and pressed him into the wall.

Caging Victor in with forearms on each side of his head, Yuuri plundered his mouth, thrusting his thigh between Victor’s legs.  Victor was already hard from Yuuri’s efforts to clean him.  Banging his head back against the tiles, Victor’s jaw dropped open.

Yuuri knew what he wanted to do, knew how to truly surprise Victor, but he needed one last boost of courage to do it.

“Victor,” he said, kissing his jaw and rolling his hips.  “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.  More than anyone.”  It was all he needed.

“Good.”

With rough hands, Yuuri spun Victor around and shoved him, face first, into the wall.

“W-what are you doing?” Victor said, voice tight, as Yuuri nibbled a line down his shoulder.

“Taking what’s mine.”

Yuuri dropped to his knees, spread Victor’s cheeks, and licked a long, hot stripe up his cleft.

Victor nearly fell over.  With a choking gasp, he arched up onto his tiptoes and swore in Russian. 

Yuuri let Victor’s reaction drive him.  Squeezing Victor’s cheeks in time with the swirl of his tongue, he pushed in increments.

He’d been worried about this being unpleasant, but the forbidden, profane nature of it was thrilling.  It made Yuuri's cock heavy between his legs.

He alternated between broad swipes with the flat of his tongue and acute little jabs that opened Victor to him.  He was light-headed from the steam and the intensity of the moment.

Yuuri wanted to know what Victor was feeling.  Was it strange?  Uncomfortable?  Judging by the shudders wracking through Victor’s body and the litany of Russian spilling from his lips, it must have been good.

Reaching around, Yuuri gripped Victor where he was swollen and hard. 

He stroked him once in time with a penetrating press of tongue, and froze as Victor shouted and came all over his fist and the tiles.

Stunned and a bit disappointed, he leaned back.  Victor was panting, his head hanging between his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.  He looked down at Yuuri over his shoulder with one hooded eye.  “Y-you have no idea what that felt like.”

Knees twinging, Yuuri pushed to his feet and wrapped his arms around Victor’s chest.  His dick slid between Victor’s cheeks.

“You came so quickly for me,” he mouthed into Victor’s shoulder.  “Are you sensitive here, Victor?”  He took himself by the base and dragged the tip of his length over the spot he’d been licking.

“What has gotten into you?”  Victor canted his head to nuzzle his temple to Yuuri’s forehead.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri whispered.  “Is it okay?”

Victor laughed.

“Yes, Yuuri.  It’s more than okay.”  With one hand Victor clutched Yuuri’s ass, holding him in place.  With the other he soaped up his fingers and pushed them into the meager space between them.  “Now let’s take care of you.”

Yuuri jerked as Victor soaped him up.  He sunk his teeth into the meat of Victor’s shoulder, making him flinch.

“Come on,” Victor said, bracing his forearms on the wall.  “Slide it between my thighs until you come.”

The order pierced through the veil of dominance Yuuri had built around himself.  It made his knees quiver, his chest ache.  He basked in the relief of doing as he was told.

“Like this?” he whispered, adjusting until he fit into the space behind Victor’s balls.  Victor clenched, tightening his muscles around him.

“Yeah.  Like that.”

Hooking his arms up Victor’s chest, Yuuri cupped his shoulders and started to move his hips.  The sensation was wholly different from anything he’d tried with Victor before.  The implications of his position set his nerves ablaze, filling his head with visions of more.

“This…this feels…”

“Like you’re fucking me?” Victor said.  “No.  Not quite.  That feels very different.”  Yuuri’s cheeks burned.  He buried his face into Victor’s back as his rhythm faltered.

“I-is that something you would want?” Yuuri mumbled into his skin.  Pleasure began to coil in his belly.

“I want everything.”  Victor pushed his hips back to meet Yuuri’s thrusts.  “Anything you’ll give me.  And you?”

“I always thought you’d do the…for my first time…”  Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to say it.  He dug his nails into Victor’s skin and bit his lip.

“Anything you choose to give me is an honor.”  Victor pressed their rings together.  “I have no expectations.  But Yuuri…”  Victor looked over his shoulder.  Yuuri leaned back until their eyes met.  He didn't stop thrusting.  “I’d make such love to you.”

With a whimper, Yuuri came between Victor’s thighs.  He almost collapsed, kept upright by leaning his full weight over Victor’s back.

As the evidence was rinsed away, Yuuri fought to catch his breath.  The adrenaline crash was crippling.  He felt unmoored, raw with sensation and flayed open.  It was too much, too quick.

“Come here,” Victor said, turning to take Yuuri in his arms.  “You were so good for me.”  Rubbing his hands up and down Yuuri’s back, he held him until he stopped shaking.  A cocoon of steam and Victor’s scent surrounded him.

“Ask me,” Yuuri said.  Victor didn’t hesitate.

“Tell me you love me.”

The reply came easy.

 

 

“I do really love your cooking,” Victor said as he took a bite of his lunch, his ankles locked around Yuuri’s under the kitchen table.

“It’s just a wrap.”

“It’s better than what I would’ve made.”

“I won’t argue with you there.” 

Victor flicked him on the arm.

“Yuuri,” he said, setting his food on the plate.  “Can you get me a napkin?  I left mine on the counter.”

“Sure.”

Yuuri pushed to his feet and rounded the table.  He scanned the counter.

“I don’t see it.”

“Look by the coffee maker.”

Sure enough, there was a single paper napkin.  As Yuuri drew closer, however, he realized something had been written on it in black pen.  He picked it up and read:

 

              Je t’aime

 

Yuuri didn’t speak French, but he’d seen enough movies to know what this meant.

Tears pearled at the edges of his eyes, his skin flushing warm.  He folded the napkin and put in his pocket, before grabbing a paper towel from the roll.

He kissed Victor full on the mouth when he brought it to him, holding his lips for far longer than he’d planned to.  Pressing their foreheads together, he savored the scent of his breath.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

When they finished eating their lunch, they didn’t speak, but Yuuri couldn’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this we'll be moving into the third and final act of the fic, aka the European Championships! *sweats nervously*
> 
> I love you like Emil Nikola loves robots and pretending to flirt with Sara Crispino to hide his obvious crush on her brother.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say in advance that I'm sorry........
> 
>  

**ACT THREE**

_At the European Figure Skating Championships_

_Ostrava, Czech Republic_

 

Yuuri groaned in relief as he shuffled into their hotel room, dragging his suitcase behind him.

Traveling to Ostrava had been a nightmare.  After running late when someone (Victor) couldn’t decide which suit to pack, they’d gone to the wrong terminal only to discover their flight was delayed.  Then, when they’d finally arrived, their cab driver took them to the wrong hotel. 

On top of that, Yuuri hadn’t anticipated being so nervous for his debut as Victor’s coach.  He’d assumed it would be easy, or at least less stressful than it was as a competitor.  He hadn’t bothered to prepare himself mentally, too focused on Victor to think of his own well-being.  He’d been doing so much better that he’d believed his anxiety was behind him.

He was wrong.

For the entirety of the five hour flight he’d obsessed over Victor’s return to the ice, of how he’d be responsible if Victor didn’t do well.  Victor wasn’t used to losing and he cared about the public perception of him.  Would he start to resent Yuuri if he failed?  Would he wish he’d never taken a break to coach him? 

And what if Yuuri’s anxiety got the better of him?  Would Victor get distracted and not be able to focus on his programs? 

By the time they’d landed, he’d felt like every sinew in his body was knotted.

Abandoning his bag, Yuuri threw his coat to the floor, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed face-first on the king sized bed.  Victor, of course, had insisted on upgrading their hotel room to a suite.  Yuuri didn’t have the energy to acknowledge the extravagance.

“Tired?” Victor said, sounding anything but. 

Yuuri mumbled into his pillow.

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor purred.  Yuuri tensed, knowing what was coming. 

Victor pounced on him, jarring a grunt from Yuuri’s chest.  Splaying over his back and pinning his hands to the mattress, he tucked his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Come on, darling,” Victor murmured against his ear.  “Don’t you want to see the city with me?  It’s still early.” 

“No.”

Victor huffed.  Then, seeming to change tactic, he kissed a line from the side of Yuuri’s neck to the nape, his hand caressing down Yuuri’s flank.  Yuuri bit his lip.

“You would prefer to entertain ourselves here, then?”  Victor slipped his hand between Yuuri’s belly and the mattress.

A throb of arousal pulsed through him, and was quickly repressed.  The last thing he needed was the raw, dangerous vulnerability sex with Victor always induced.  Victor needed to focus on the competition, not coddling Yuuri because he was too anxious to orgasm without crying.

Grabbing Victor’s wrist, he pulled his arm away just enough to roll out from under him.  Victor collapsed onto the bed with an undignified noise as Yuuri threw himself to his feet.  His face was burning, his skin buzzing at the loss of Victor’s weight.

“I’m taking a shower,” he announced, striding across the room.

“Can I join you?”

“No, it’s fine,” Yuuri snapped more harshly than he’d intended.  He couldn’t bear to see Victor’s reaction, so he rushed to shut himself in the bathroom, accidentally slamming the door behind him.

 

As always, a warm shower helped wash some of Yuuri's tension, but he was still on edge.  He felt like any little thing could tip him over into a full attack.  He needed to focus on staying calm and logical as best he could.

If he ruined Victor’s comeback he’d never forgive himself.

When he came back into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, Victor was lounging on the bed, phone in hand.  He looked up and his mouth stretched into a smile.

“Hi Yuuri,” he said amiably.

“Hi.”  Ducking his head, Yuuri went to his suitcase to change.  He had no idea how Victor could be so calm and affable right before a match when Yuuri was always a mess. 

Still, he vowed not to be the one to sully his mood.

Laying his suitcase on the couch, he moved to unzip it and accidentally dropped his towel to the floor.  Blushing, he bent over to pick it up again and startled when cool fingers cupped his hips.

“Hey!” he said, dislodging Victor’s hands and jumping away to face him.  “I need to put clothes on.”

“I respectfully disagree.”  Victor stepped close.  He grazed his fingers up Yuuri’s arms and breathed against his collarbone.  His hair tickled Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri’s body reacted against his will, his nerves humming at Victor’s proximity.  He wanted nothing more than to drag Victor close, to submerge in the cradle of his scent and warm skin and sweet words.  It took everything he had to pull away.

“We should go to bed,” he heard himself say.

“Excellent idea.”  Victor pursued him, sliding his fingers to Yuuri’s neck, his lips brushing Yuuri’s jaw.  Yuuri would only need to cant his head to kiss him, to sink into the wet, drugging taste of his mouth.

With a gulp, Yuuri pushed him back.

“Brush your teeth and get in bed,” he ordered.  Victor’s pupils dilated at the command.

“Yes, coach,” Victor said, grinning, before bounding into the bathroom.

The eagerness in Victor’s eyes flickered when he reemerged, naked, only to find Yuuri fully clothed in pajamas.  Yuuri did his best to ignore the confusion and disappointment on Victor’s face, and climbed into bed.

Not to be deterred, Victor slid between the sheets, sidling close and pressing the length of nude body against Yuuri’s back.  Yuuri went rigid.

“Let me take care of you after that long flight.  I know how stressful it was for you,” Victor said.  He rolled his hips against Yuuri’s rear.

“I was fine, I—”

“You’re tight all over, Yuuri.  How can we fix that?”

Heat spread in his pelvis as Victor mouthed at the back of his neck, his fingers tracing down his chest and stomach.  A blazing, painful need burned through his veins.

He grabbed Victor’s hand before it breached his underwear.

“Victor.”

“Let me touch you,” he murmured, his words vibrating through Yuuri’s whole body. 

“I…I don’t—“

“I want to make you feel good.”  His fingers teased at the band of his briefs.  Yuuri chewed on his lip.  “I want to make your legs shake.”

Yuuri had never been compelled to give in to Victor more, to let his deft fingers wring pleasure from him, his words of praise crumbling the fortress he’d built around his anxiety.  

But he couldn’t.  He couldn’t be Victor’s problem, couldn't lean on him when the hard drop came.  Not now.

“I don’t want you to,” he said.  He’d been so careful to strip his voice of arousal that the words came out cold and sharp.

Victor went stiff.

“Oh.”  Slowly, delicately, he withdrew his touch.  Yuuri chilled as his warmth was taken away.  “I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just—”

The mattress dipped and Victor rose from the bed.  Yuuri jerked his head to look at him, terrified that he’d leave the room, but he only went to his suitcase to pull on clothes.

Yuuri felt a pang of regret at seeing the beautiful landscape of his body covered, but it was for the best.  It would make him easier to resist.

When Victor returned to the bed, he didn’t wrap around Yuuri as he normally did, but kept a respectful distance between them. 

Yuuri hated it.

He wanted to tangle with Victor, to rest his head on Victor’s chest and fall asleep to the beat of his heart.  Yet he’d just told Victor he didn’t want to be touched.  What would it look like if he immediately changed his mind?

Victor flicked off the light.  When he said “Goodnight,” Yuuri couldn’t manage more than a mumble in reply, knowing that if he opened his mouth he’d take back what he’d said.

Sleep wouldn’t come no matter how hard he tried to meditate.  He was cold and lonely, his anxiety building on itself with every breath.  What if he’d made things worse by refusing Victor’s advances?  Did Victor feel rejected?  Was he mad at Yuuri?  What if it distracted him during the competition? 

Victor’s warm hand curled over the dip of his waist.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri mumbled, only half-lying.  He hated that Victor had to ask.  It was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” Victor whispered.  “You know I’d never want to—”

“Please don’t.”

“I…okay.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

Victor paused.  Yuuri didn’t breathe, praying that he wouldn’t pursue the subject further.

“Okay.”

Yuuri knew Victor didn’t believe him, but he had to ignore it.  Sleep didn’t come for a long time, and when it did, Yuuri dreamt of his failure at the Grand Prix Final a year before.

 

 

Yuuri tapped his fingers nervously against the half wall as Victor glided through his practice skate. 

Their morning had been tense and quiet, as if Victor was tip-toeing around him.  Yuuri fought to pretend everything was fine, but it seemed the harder he tried the more uneasy he looked.  He could tell Victor wanted to ask him what was bothering him but was courteous enough to respect his space. 

When Victor flubbed a triple axel, falling hard to his knees, Yuuri’s stomach bottomed out.  He knew intuitively that it was his fault.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yakov asked, coming close.

“I’m not sure,” Yuuri lied.  Yakov saw through him immediately.

“Are you two fighting?”

“No.”

“Then what’s distracting him?”

Yuuri stared down at his hands as he wrung them.

“Probably me.”

“Then do what you need to do to help him focus.  That’s your top priority as his coach right now.”

“I understand,” Yuuri said, nodding.

When practice ended, and Yakov had left to lecture Yurio, Victor skated up to the railing.  He didn’t look Yuuri in the eye.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” Victor replied, curt.  Yuuri swallowed.

“Plenty of skaters miss jumps in practice,” Yuuri tried, wincing at how fake he sounded.  He had no idea how to be a coach.

“Yeah.”  Victor offered him a flimsy smile.  “Though I’m not one of them.”

Yuuri knew he should say something more, should joke and tease Victor back into the jovial mood he’d had the day before, but when he opened his mouth, no words came.  He was too afraid to say the wrong thing to say anything at all.  Yakov’s advice blared in the back of his mind.

They went back to their room in silence.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Victor said once they were inside.

“Okay.”

After taking a breath and straightening his spine, Victor stepped close.  He curled his hand around the back of Yuuri’s neck.  For a second, Yuuri thought Victor was going to kiss him, and he went stiff. 

“Do you want to join me?” Victor asked, tentative.

The “yes” was primed on Yuuri’s lips.  He barely managed to hold it back, knowing that he didn’t have the resolve to resist Victor again, not when his body was wet and warm and close.

“No,” he forced out.  He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from saying more.

Victor flinched.  His face fell, and he pulled his touch away like he’d been burned.

“Ah,” he said.  “Sorry, I—did I do something?”

Yuuri winced.

“No, you’re fine.  Everything’s fine.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said.  He tilted Yuuri’s head with a gentle finger to his chin, waiting until Yuuri met his eyes to speak.  “I know you.  I know when something is wrong.  Not that you’re being subtle.”

Yuuri swallowed around the ache in his throat.  His panic swelled.

“Talk to me,” Victor murmured.  “Let me help you.”

A small whimper escaped Yuuri’s throat.  He wanted nothing more than to let Victor soothe him, but he knew he couldn’t.  Yuuri loved him too much to be that selfish. 

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?” he snapped, tone carried on the back of his desperation.

Victor staggered back, mouth dropping open in shock.  He looked like he’d been slapped. 

Eyes casting to the side, he nodded once and backed away, stumbling.  He locked himself in the bathroom.

The second Yuuri was alone, he gasped, a shocking wave of panic crashing over him, like the walls he’d built inside of himself had collapsed in one fell swoop.

He felt utterly helpless, like everything he did only made things worse.  He was hurting Victor.  He was making him feel unwanted and alone and inadequate.  How could he do that to him, and on the eve of his comeback, no less?

And yet, what was his alternative?  If he gave in to the comfort of Victor’s embrace and kind words, he’d be distracting him, especially when closeness meant the inevitable bottoming out of his anxiety.  Everything would be about him when this trip was supposed to be about Victor.

There was no way to do the right thing.  He was fettered by an overwhelming lack of control.

Frantic, Yuuri tried to remember what he’d done the night of the ballet to talk himself down in the shower.  He tugged at his hair, chest burning, and fought to engage his logical brain.  Walking in circles, he muttered “You’re okay,” over and over.  It didn’t calm him like it had before. 

He couldn’t use the shower like he usually did to calm himself unless he wanted to reveal his panic to Victor, and he couldn’t retreat to a safe space because nothing around him was familiar.

Far too soon he heard the shower turn off.  Victor would reenter the room in a moment.  There was no way Yuuri could hide his emotions in time. 

He had to get out.

As quickly as possible, he scribbled a note on a pad of paper saying he’d be back soon, and tossed it onto the desk.  Grabbing his coat, he fled.

He wasn’t cognizant of finding his way to the street, only coming back into awareness when the crisp winter air was deep in his lungs.  He didn’t know how long he walked, hands stuffed in his pockets and breath puffing from his lips in clouds, but eventually, the storm receded.  The gentle thrum of the city drew him out of the suffocating depths of his own mind and turned his focus outward. 

Sweat cooled on his skin.  When he started to shiver, he decided it was time to go back.  As he returned to the hotel, he rebuilt walls around himself, until he was sure Victor wouldn’t see traces of his episode.  He was proud of himself.  On his own, he’d conquered another attack. 

He’d left his key card in his rush to escape, so he raised his fist to knock on the door to their room.  It flew open before he could.

Victor startled when he saw Yuuri, clearly on his way out.  His eyes were wide and manic, his cheeks flushed and hair damp.  His shirt hung unevenly, like he’d tugged it on in a rush.  An aura of fear pulsed off him.

“Where have you been?”  He grabbed Yuuri by his coat lapels and dragged him into the room.  The door slammed behind him.  “I called your phone.”

“Oh.  I guess I forgot it.  I left you a note,” Yuuri said, pointing to the desk. 

Victor strode away from him, fists clenching as he started to pace.  Yuuri was at a complete loss as his eyes followed him back and forth across the room.  He’d never seen Victor so distressed.  “I had no idea where you went.”

“I just took a walk.”

“A _walk?_ ”

Yuuri flinched.  The panic he’d caged rattled against its bars. 

“I needed some fresh air.  Why are you so upset?”

“How can you ask me that?”

Yuuri’s mouth opened and closed several times.  His chest hurt, a fresh film of sweat rising to his skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, halting to level Yuuri with a desperate stare.  He spread his palms at his sides, a gesture of helplessness.  “You barely let me touch you.  It’s like you don’t want me anymore.”

“Of course I want you.”

“Is it because I fell in practice?  Or…or is it because I made us late for the flight?  I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“What?  No!” Yuuri breathed.  He shucked off his coat and tossed it aside.  His hands were shaking.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  You…you don’t sound like yourself.”  Panic crawled up the back of his throat, blocking his breath.  He felt like he was barreling down a hill, helpless to evade the spikes waiting at the bottom.  Everything he’d feared was coming true.

“Well, I’m worried!” Victor said.

“You don’t need to be.”

“And you…you say _I’m_ not acting like myself?  What about you.  You’re like a different person.”

“That’s not true, I—“

“You left me.  Right before a competition when I’m meant to be relaxing,” Victor said.  “I would never do that to you.”

Yuuri felt a pulse of defensiveness.  He harnessed it, let it fend back some of his anxiety.

“You left me alone in the hotel room more than once before the Grand Prix Final.”

Victor seemed tripped up for a moment but he quickly recovered.

“I was letting you sleep, not sneaking off while you were in the shower.”

“I didn’t sneak off!  I told you, I left a note.”  Yuuri rubbed his face, groaning in frustration with himself.  The last thing he wanted was to argue.  “All I did was go for a walk.  I’m allowed to do that.  Why are you acting like I abandoned you?”

“You _know_ why,” Victor cracked, and then the fight went out of him.  He looked like he’d been gutted and exposed, like there was a wound inside him that had never healed properly and Yuuri had just reached inside him and ripped it open.

Victor collapsed on the bed and buried his face in his hands, elbows braced on his knees. 

Yuuri was paralyzed.  Even at their most intense moments Victor was always restrained in some way.  It was unnerving to see him so frantic, so unprotected.  Yuuri had no one to blame but himself.  He _did_ “know why,” and he should have known better.

“Victor,” he said, taking a deep breath to collect his courage.  “This isn’t working.”

A breath punched out of Victor.  His fingers flexed and a shudder rocked through him.

“I don’t think I should be your coach anymore,” Yuuri whispered.  “I’m not good at this.  I’m just making things worse for you.  I can’t stand that I’ve made you feel like this.”

“So you _are_ abandoning me.”

“Please don’t say that.  I’m just letting Yakov take over again.  You did much better when he was your coach anyway.”

Victor’s hands fell away from his face.  They locked eyes, and Yuuri saw an emotion in him that he’d never be able to classify or forget.

“But I need you,” Victor said.

“You became the best skater in history without me.”

Victor shook his head. 

“It’s not the same now.  I don’t want to do this without you.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Victor huffed a humorless laugh.

“How is it that you still don’t realize what I feel for you?”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Yuuri tried to order his thoughts.  The conversation had gone so far beyond what he’d wanted, it seemed impossible to go back to where they were.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, knowing exactly why Victor needed to hear him say it.  “But I can’t be your coach.  If I fail you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Victor nodded.  His lip quivered only once, and then Yuuri watched the slow process of him shuttering his expression, locking himself away. 

He stood and straightened his shirt, then finger-combed his hair back into its usual grace.  When he turned and looked at Yuuri again, he was untouchable.  Confident, beautiful…detached.

“Somehow I forgot what a selfish human being Katsuki Yuuri can be,” he said, eviscerating Yuuri with a light tone and a polite, easy smile. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.

“I think it’s my turn to go for a walk,” he said.  As he passed by Yuuri, he pressed the note into his palm.  He leaned close and spoke right into Yuuri’s ear.  “I was going to give this to you in the kiss and cry, but since you won’t be with me you might as well take it now.”

Yuuri’s eyes burned.  His throat ached.  He couldn’t watch as Victor pulled on his coat and left the room.

As soon as the door shut behind him, such tears spilled from his eyes that he could barely see.  It was a long moment before he gathered the bravery to fold open the note and see what was written inside. 

When he did a sob burst from his throat.

 

              I love you.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch now, so of course I had to burn it all to the ground before I wrap everything up with a cute fluffy smutty bow. I moved this past week into a new apartment, which is reason for the unusual delay in posting. The next chapter definitely won't take so long (famous last words).
> 
> I love you like Christophe's mystery man loves "coming too early."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was my quad flip. ie it's the most difficult challenge of this fic, and I might have fallen on my ass but hopefully the rotations are all there.
> 
>  
> 
> I love you like Victor loves pink Barbie cars.

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. 

Victor had left him.  Victor was angry with him.  Victor had thrown those three words in Yuuri’s face, as if promising to never say them again. 

And the worst part was he knew he had brought it on himself. 

He paced back and forth, pulling at his hair, and fought to suck air into his lungs.  He’d hurt Victor, made him feel abandoned and alone and unloved.  That was the reality and he hated himself.  What was wrong with him?  How could he have taken so many steps backward in one day, all because he let fear and selfishness command him?  He was a coward, and worse, everything could have been avoided if he’d just been honest with Victor from the start.

Yuuri was ashamed of himself.

He couldn’t say how long he stumbled around the room, gasping for breath, but eventually he exhausted himself into collapsing on the bed.  The last of his tears leaked sluggishly from his eyes, soaking his pillow and fogging his glasses.  Every muscle ached.  He wondered if he could stay like that forever, stagnant with the pain he deserved, sinking into the mattress alone, where he could never hurt anyone again.

Then, when he had cried his last tear and recited every cruel insult at himself that he could think of, he staggered back to his feet.  He cleaned his salt-stained glasses, sniffling, and washed his face in the luxurious bathroom, before gulping down a glass of water.  Smoothing his hair away from his face and putting his glasses back on, he stared at his withered reflection in the mirror.

Yuuri had destroyed Victor’s comeback.  He owed it to Victor to make it better.  He owed it to himself.

With a deep breath, he went to his bag and flipped it open.  He rummaged through it until he found the small box at the bottom where he kept all the love notes Victor had given him.

The papers, napkins, receipts, and wrappers Victor had written his “I love you”s on were worn and soft from how often Yuuri had touched them, cherished them.  In the week leading up to the competition, Victor had gifted with him with a new note every day, written in Chinese, Romanian, Italian, and more, but never English.  English was too difficult and Russian was out of the question.

But Victor, as always, had wanted to surprise him.  He had planned to tell Yuuri he loved him in one of the most meaningful ways and Yuuri had ruined it.

He found the newest and most painful “I love you” where he’d dropped it on the floor.  It was damp with his tears but Yuuri added it to his collection.  It was a reminder of how strongly Victor felt for him, despite Yuuri’s flaws and mistakes.  Surely Victor would be able to forgive him if he cared enough to write this message?  Yuuri had to believe he would or he didn’t think he’d be able to stand.

The notes were the most tangible evidence of Victor’s regard for him but they weren’t all he had.  He needed to draw on his memories, to prove that he hadn’t lost the most important thing in his life, to find strength.

He conjured as much as he could of their time in St. Petersburg.  He thought of his first night when Victor had scratched his back until he fell asleep, and of pleasuring themselves together when Victor’s face was painted in early morning light. 

But then, when he recalled chasing each other around the couch which had always been one of his favorite moments, he heard Victor’s words in his head: “You could hurt me so easily.”  A stab of disgrace stole the comfort he’d found.  Victor had placed so much trust in him, given him so much power, and Yuuri had betrayed him.

Before he could soak in his guilt, he tried to move on but all he could think of was the image of Victor removing his ring because Yuuri had said, “I didn’t ask you to marry me.” Victor’s face, stripped of light and happiness, all because of Yuuri, was vivid in his mind.

Perhaps their fight today wasn’t an anomaly.  Perhaps this was just the kind of partner Yuuri was.  He hurt the one he loved the most.

Shaking his head, Yuuri battled to dispel the horrible thought by conjuring a new one in its place: their date night to the ballet.  Victor in that plaid suit was something he could never forget, his eyes sparkling with adoration and attraction, all for Yuuri.  Yuuri had never felt so sexy and he couldn’t fight a smirk when he remembered Victor’s face as he white-knuckled his seat in the theatre, face flushed with shock and pleasure.

At the memory of that night, Yuuri reached deeper into his suitcase and pulled out another box.  He flipped it open and his breath caught.  The cufflinks Victor had given him were no less stunning than when he’d first seen them, though they were a little different now.

The small gems at their centers had turned green in the sunlight streaming through the window.  They’d been red in the lamp-lit restaurant a few weeks before, and while Victor had told him they could change color, it was still jarring to see it in person. 

And it was impossible to ignore the symbolism of such a gift.

Surely there had to be a reason for Victor to love him enough to give him this, though Yuuri had never truly understood why Victor liked him, why he wanted to coach him or kiss him or even marry him.  There had to be evidence.

It was incredibly difficult for him, but Yuuri forced himself to understand why.

He remembered his panic attack after Victor couldn’t say “I love you” the first time, of how he’d pushed his own demons aside for the sake of helping Victor.  He recalled making Victor rest when he needed it, and feeding him ice cream in bed, and washing the fever from his skin.  Flushing, he summoned another memory, of shoving Victor against the shower wall and dropping to his knees, of licking him in his most sensitive place until he came. 

Finally, he remembered all the times Victor had said “tell me you love me” and of how he had answered, emphatically and without reservation, “I love you.”

Yuuri had made mistakes.  There was no denying it.  But were mistakes really so bad?  He’d always thought so, both on the rink and off, but perhaps mistakes were just accidents; something that was against his intentions and out of his control.  They happened to everybody, and he didn’t blame other people for them.  Why did he blame himself?

Still, just because something wasn’t his fault didn’t mean it wasn’t his responsibility.

With a deep, rallying breath and a nod, Yuuri forgave himself for his mistakes.

And then he vowed to fix them.

 

 

When Victor returned several hours later, Yuuri shot to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the couch with his leg bouncing.  Waiting for him to come back had been a form of torture.  He’d played through every possible scenario in his mind, desperately trying to plan his words and anticipate Victor’s reactions to them.

“Victor,” Yuuri breathed as Victor shut the door behind him and turned.  Their eyes met.  “I--”

The words stuck.  Victor was not as Yuuri expected.  He was smiling, his expression light and carefree.  Nothing about him reflected the turmoil Yuuri had been suffering or the ways he’d imagined this going.  He was totally caught off guard.

“Hi, Yuuri,” Victor said, friendly.  He held up a brown paper bag.  “I brought you some dinner.  Figured you might be hungry.”

Yuuri stared, frozen, as Victor crossed the room and placed the bag on the coffee table.  Victor kept a wide berth between them, shrugging off his coat and kicking away his shoes without looking at him.

“Victor I…about before--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.  He smiled, eyes squinting.  The sight was so odd that Yuuri felt a throb of nausea.  Was Victor going to pretend their fight hadn’t occurred?  Yuuri stared at him, absorbing his straight posture and flippant grin, the way he looked past Yuuri as if he wasn’t really there.

While Victor had always been skilled at putting on a happy face, it was never as impermeable as this.  Yuuri had no idea what he was thinking.  He was a million miles away.

A strange shroud of loneliness fell over Yuuri.  He was looking at his partner, his best friend, and yet there was nothing of the man he loved before him.  Swallowing over the ache in his throat, he tried to gather his courage and bring Victor back to him.

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” he tried.  “I know that I didn’t handle this well at all but I never meant to hurt you—“

“Do you like tacos?”

Yuuri blinked.

“What?”

“I got you tacos.  I don’t know if you like them,” Victor said, indicating the brown bag.  “Apparently, Ostrava has a great Mexican take-away spot, at least according to the internet.  Chris and I tried it for dinner and it was pretty good, so I brought some back for you.”

Yuuri frowned, unable to fathom a response. 

For a moment, he had the oddest fear that he’d imagined their entire fight, had read too much into the way Victor’s lip had quivered and the jab about his selfishness.  He was beginning to think he was going crazy.  He tried again.

“Victor, I should have told you sooner, but after the flight I was—“

“Your food is getting cold,” Victor said.  His voice was a little too loud, his expression too aggressively pleasant.  Flinching, Yuuri took a step back, his gaze snapping to the side.  The message was clear: leave it alone.

Yuuri didn’t know what to do.  He hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Victor would pretend nothing had happened.  He had no choice but to accept what Victor was offering.

With timid steps, Yuuri went to the couch and eased onto it stiffly, picking up the bag.  He tried to make his fingers stop shaking as he reached inside and pulled out a taco.

“Thank you,” he said.  He tensed when Victor sat beside him, leaving space between them that felt cavernous in the awkward quiet. 

“No problem.”

Yuuri fought to swallow down the food.  It tasted like ash in his mouth.  He ate in silence, Victor tapping away on his phone beside him.

Once he had forced down the last bite, he wiped his hands off on a napkin and set the bag aside.  He turned towards Victor on the couch, startling when he found Victor already looking at him.

“Good?” Victor asked.

“You told me you love me,” Yuuri blurted, and then fought the strong urge to punch himself in the face.  For the briefest second, Victor’s cheerful expression wavered, but he smiled so quickly that Yuuri wondered if he imagined it.  “In the note.  In English.  I don’t,” Yuuri said, cringing.  “I don’t know what I should say, but I want you to know—“

“Then don’t say anything at all.  It was just a silly note.  It didn’t mean anything.”

Yuuri gasped, a small, choked sound.  Victor’s words hit him like a sudden sickness, draining the warmth from his body and the color from the world.  Everything he’d told himself about how much Victor loved him, about how Victor’s forgiveness was possible, was wrong.  The notes didn’t mean anything.  The memories didn’t mean anything.  He was “silly” for thinking otherwise.

Victor seemed startled by his reaction, his brow puckering.  He looked confused.

“They,” Yuuri started, swallowing when the words lodged in his throat like shattered glass.  “They meant something to me.”

“Yuuri.”  Victor tilted towards him.  His fingers touched Yuuri’s knuckles.  “You told me to leave it alone, so I am.  Isn’t that what you want?”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri wanted to confess.  His lips parted but he swallowed the admission back.  What could he say?  That he wanted to fight this out with Victor?  That he wanted to reach into both of them until they were raw and vulnerable and exhausted, on the night before his big comeback, just so he could absolve himself?  The whole reason this fight had happened was because Yuuri feared being a burden, and here Victor was, clearly wanting to just let it go.

 _They didn’t mean anything._ Victor’s horrible words repeated in his head, over and over.  Tears prickled in Yuuri’s eyes.  He fought to hold them back.

“Is it what _you_ want?” he asked.

A solitary tear escaped and Yuuri rubbed it away viciously.

Victor seemed to be fighting some internal dispute with himself, his jaw clenched, eyes narrow as they scanned Yuuri’s face.  He opened his mouth and closed it.

“Yes,” he said at last, like it was forced out of him.

“Okay.”  Yuuri cleared his throat and set his shoulders.  “Okay.” 

Victor’s fingers slipped between his.

“Want to get ready for bed and watch some TV?”

“Okay.”

Victor shot him a searching glance.  He seemed to find whatever he was looking for because he rose to his feet and started changing into pajamas, as if everything was normal.

It took Yuuri a moment to find the strength to stand. 

When they were both beneath the bed covers, sitting against their pillows with an expanse of space between them, Yuuri stared blankly at the television.  He felt numb all over, like his body had decided feeling anything at all was too much.

He could sense Victor watching him in the corner of his vision, but he couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t handle the pleasant, meaningless mask that meant Yuuri wasn’t allowed to see him anymore.

It was better to be numb.

“Want to go to sleep?” Victor asked amiably after some indiscernible length of time.

Nodding, Yuuri slid down and turned over.  The second his back was to Victor tears escaped from his eyes.  He didn’t know he’d had any left in him.

Fingertips grazed the back of his neck in a touch so slight he barely felt it.  Victor whispered something in Russian.

Yuuri cried, silent and unmoving, until exhaustion pulled him under.

 

 

A few hours later, Yuuri awoke from an indistinct nightmare, blinking in the dark.  Two blue eyes watched him from a few inches away. 

“Victor,” Yuuri murmured, surprised to find him awake.  He bit his lip between his teeth.

For a moment, he wondered if he was still dreaming.  The man before him was not the distant, polite shell he’d fallen asleep beside.  This was Victor, open and sad and honest in the secrecy of the night. 

Delicately, Victor pressed his fingers to Yuuri’s cheek, sliding his thumb across Yuuri’s bottom lip.  Fresh tears fell from Yuuri’s eyes, unbidden.

Victor whispered again in Russian, the same phrase he’d said before they went to sleep.  Yuuri knew he recognized the words from somewhere but he couldn’t place them.

“What did you say?” he asked.

It was a moment before Victor replied.

“’I hate to see you cry.’”

Eyes squeezing shut, Yuuri whimpered and fought to hold back his tears.  It was no use.

“Please kiss me,” he cracked, hating how pathetic and he desperate he sounded.

Victor did.  The feeling of his soft lips was a salve for Yuuri’s soul, familiar and sweet and painful.  Yuuri whined, breath puffing out of his nose as he burrowed into Victor’s warmth, wrapping his arm around him.

They kissed, hot and unhurried, for as long as Victor would allow.  When Victor did finally pull back, he touched their foreheads together.

“I lied to you,” Victor breathed, as if confessing his deepest secret.  “They meant everything to me.”

Relief so profound it hurt washed over Yuuri.  He dug fingers into Victor’s back, brought them as close as possible.

“Why?”

“I thought…I thought it was what you wanted to hear.”

“No.  Never that.  Please—never that.”

 

 

 

Despite what they had shared in the middle of the night, Victor was still distant the next morning.  Yuuri was timid and uncomfortable around him as he hadn’t been in a long time.

Victor was preparing for his short program, and the fact that Yuuri wouldn’t be his coach hung around them like a dark cloud.  Yuuri wanted to take back what he’d said more than anything, but he couldn’t tell if the offer would be welcome.

“Do you want me in the stands or down with you?” Yuuri tested as they made their way to the rink.  He hoped his intentions were obvious.

Victor seemed lost in his own thoughts.  It took him a moment to respond.

“Oh,” he said, frowning, as though he hadn’t expected Yuuri to ask.  “I...you’ll be more comfortable in the stands.”

“I don’t mind,” Yuuri said, trying to sound casual.

“No, it’s fine.  I’ll see you after.”

Biting his lip, Yuuri swallowed against the ache in his throat. 

When Victor left him for the locker room, Yuuri stood, alone and adrift, and felt their parting like a physical loss.

 

 

Victor was not himself during the warm-ups.  He was stiff and uncoordinated, barely able to do more than a double.  Palms sweating, Yuuri cringed as the audience started to take notice.  He could feel their hushed murmurs every time Victor missed a jump like insects on his skin.

After the warm-ups were over and Victor had left the ice with a fake smile and a tense back, Yuuri’s phone pinged with a message.

 _Where are you??_  

It was from Yurio.

Yuuri couldn’t find it in him to reply.  After all, what could he say?  “I quit as Victor’s coach because I was too selfish to put aside my own issues and help him”?  He swallowed down a wave of nausea, and dug his nails into his thighs.

Yuri sent him another text.

_Victor won’t tell me where you are.  He’s got that stupid expression that he used to have all the time before you made him less annoying.  You should probably get down here before I kick him._

A smile threatened to tug at Yuuri’s lips, but he quickly repressed it.  He didn’t deserve to smile when he was too ashamed to tell Yuri what happened.

_Katsudon?_

Yuuri put his phone on silent and stuffed it in his pocket.

 

 

Victor, of course, was one of the last skaters of the day.  The wait was hell on Yuuri’s nerves, his muscles gnarling and face sore from grinding his teeth.

When Victor finally emerged from the locker room, Yuuri’s eyes shot to him.

He could tell immediately that Victor was upset, even from a distance.  His jaw was clenched, his back straight and shoulders bunched.  Yakov was saying something to him, but Victor didn’t seem to hear him.  His eyes were locked on the ice as he waited for the previous skater to finish.

Yuuri had never seen him in his new costume.  Victor had wanted it to be a surprise, as with everything.  It was a grey, plaid suit that perfectly echoed the one he’d worn on their date to the ballet, except for the faint sparkle to the fabric.  The buttons were open down to the center of his chest, his tie unraveled and falling elegantly across his pecs.  He looked exactly as he had when they’d gotten home from the theatre that night, with Yuuri’s back pressed to the front door and Victor’s lips flushed from kissing. 

This was Victor’s costume for his program about _home_ , and Yuuri couldn’t ignore the meaning behind it.  It was intended only for him to comprehend, and though the world would see, home was something private for the two of them.

Just before Victor entered the rink, he turned and his eyes found Yuuri in the stands, as if he could hear his thoughts.

Victor looked at him with such intense longing, such despair, that Yuuri’s breath was stolen away.

Then, sliding his cheerful façade back in place, Victor blew Yuuri a kiss.  The audience “aww”-ed at the display, but Yuuri barely heard them, a cold chill creeping up his spine.

This was wrong.  Everything was all wrong.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Yuuri was paralyzed as he watched Victor glide to the middle of the ice, posing in a reach to a person who wasn’t there. 

The [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvryolGa19A) began and Victor spun into his choreography. 

There was no passion in his movements, no emotion.  It was hollow and stiff, nothing like the routine Yuuri had seen him perfect in practice. 

Nothing like the program Yuuri had _coached_ Victor into creating.

And the worst part was that throughout the piece, Victor would reach and flourish and gesture to the spot at the side of the rink where Yuuri was supposed to be standing, only there was no one there.

Clarity hit Yuuri in sudden, brutal totality: Victor was calling for him.  The love of his life was calling for him, and he had to answer or he’d never forgive himself.

Yuuri shot to his feet, and ran.

He barreled down the stairs and through the hall to the rink, flashing his badge rudely at the attendants guarding the lower entrance.  Shoving by anyone clogging his path, he burst into the stadium and sprinted to the spot where he was always meant to be.

He knew the moment Victor saw him, because there was the slightest stutter in his movements, right before everything changed.

Suddenly, Victor attacked the program with blaring, fearless emotion woven into every movement, as though Yuuri’s mere presence had ignited a fire within him.  Profound relief flowed from his features, making the music seem like it was emanating from him.  He looked like he had found home.

Yuuri could sense the audience noticing, a potent energy surging around him.  No one had ever seen Victor Nikiforov skate like this.

And Yuuri had never seen him so beautiful.

The rest of the song passed in a blur, Yuuri lost to the connection building between them.  Victor was writing “I love you” in the most precious way he knew, with his body and his mind, with the music and his skates.

Right at the end, Victor shocked everyone by soaring through a quad flip rather than the loop he’d planned.  He landed it perfectly and went into his final spin with a smile on his face. 

Snapping to a stop, he held out his arms just as the music ended.  He stood there, open, offering everything he had to the new home he’d found.

To Yuuri.

The audience roared, celebrating the return of their living legend, but Yuuri could think only of the figure at the center of the rink.

Victor took only a second to catch his breath before he was racing to the kiss and cry.  Yuuri broke into a run to meet him.

He reached the opening in the half wall at the same moment as Victor, spreading his arms wide to catch him in an embrace that knocked the wind out of him. 

“You came,” Victor gasped.  “You came to me.”

Words that were unchecked and raw poured from Yuuri’s lips in response, and he let them without fear.

“I love you.  You were so beautiful, I should have been there the whole time.  Never seen you skate like that.  Please.  I’m so sorry.”

Victor planted frantic, sweaty kisses all over the side of his face, his arms vice-like around Yuuri’s shoulders.  Tears tumbled down Yuuri’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry too,” Victor breathed into his skin, chest heaving with exertion.  “I…I wish I had kept the note.  I’d give it to you now.  I want to say the words so badly.”

“I don’t need them, I already know.  I—I already know.”

“Yuuri, I—”

“Will you two get off the damn ice, already?!” Yurio shouted, jarring them back into reality.

With a breathless laugh, Yuuri held Victor as he put the blade guards on his skates and stepped off the ice. 

They clutched at each other and staggered to the kiss and cry.  Sitting on the bench, Victor pressed his face into the side of Yuuri’s neck.  He held Yuuri’s hand so tightly it almost hurt, but Yuuri welcomed the pain, a consuming need to be as close to Victor as possible crawling over his skin.

"I don’t even care what I scored,” Victor whispered.  “I just want to be alone with you.”

“I want that too.”

“I miss you.”

“When we get back, you’re taking a bath with me,” Yuuri said, weaving his fingers through Victor’s damp hair.  “I have things I need to say.   I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me now.”  Victor drew back to look at him, his face close.  Yuuri’s eyes dropped to his lips.  “It _is_ called the kiss and cry.”

“The way I want to kiss you is not appropriate for national television.”

Victor’s pupils dilated.   Yuuri tilted toward him, his eyes slipping shut.

“Vitya!  Quit fooling around and look at your score,” Yakov interrupted, glowering down at them with his arms crossed.  “The sooner you do the quicker you two can get out of my sight.  You both shaved years off my life today.”

With a grumble, Victor turned and glared at the scoreboard.  He was in third place.

“There, I looked at it.  Now can we—” Yuuri caught his lips as his head swiveled back, ignoring the immediate hollers from the audience. 

Victor’s lips were cool and plush, and he made a lovely little noise in the back of his throat that Yuuri would cherish forever.  It took all the control he had to pull away.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he confessed.

Without another word, Victor grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and dragged him to his feet.  They set off for the privacy of their hotel room with Yurio shouting something insulting at their backs.

Yuuri didn’t acknowledge him.  In that moment, Victor was the only other person in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday is this weekend so I'm probably gonna' be a little distracted from writing (code for: I'll be pole-dancing with a tie on my head after 16 glasses of champagne before challenging my personal Victor to a dance-off).
> 
> I'd like to extend a special thank you to [Victuurificrec](http://victuurificrec.tumblr.com/) for being kind enough to put people in touch with this fic, and for making such incredible rec lists. As always, I'd also like to thank [plaidshirtjimkirk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk/works) for being the key to my sanity. Victor's plaid suit is for you.
> 
> Speaking of the plaid suit, the incredible [fem-helios](http://fem-helios.tumblr.com/) did some gorgeous fanart of it! [Check it out here](http://fem-helios.tumblr.com/post/158199824726/sketching-victors-free-skate-costume-from-nerve) or [here](https://fem-helios.tumblr.com/post/158494565151/i-keep-flip-flopping-on-whether-i-like-his-enough?is_related_post=1) for the digital version!
> 
> I love you readers like Minako loves getting drunk and looking really good for her age.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you like Victor loves his own hair. 
> 
> (which, btw, is not a judgement against Victor. if that was my hair I'd love it that much too)

The hotel room door shut behind them.

Yuuri stared at Victor, who was still in his costume, his hair mussed and cheeks glowing rosy, and for the strangest moment could think of nothing to say.  Victor seemed to share in his stagnation, his eyes boring into him from where he stood, just out of reach and panting.

Yuuri absorbed the look of him, basking in the confirmation that he hadn’t lost this.  Victor was here, and he loved Yuuri, was even wearing a costume that proved it.  Yuuri opened his mouth to vocalize his utter relief but nothing came out.  He saw in the glimmer of Victor’s eyes that he knew anyway.

Something shifted.

In perfect unison they surged together, lips colliding in a clash of teeth that was not strictly pleasant, yet was exactly what Yuuri needed.

They gasped in each other’s air, tongues and hips rolling as they clawed at fabric and skin.  Yuuri was slammed back against the wall, Victor’s body a taut, unrelenting line against him.  Tugging at Victor’s hair, he hooked his leg around Victor’s hips.  Victor grabbed him by the rear and lifted so that Yuuri could wrap his other leg around him.  Their pelvises aligned.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri whimpered between kisses.  He squeezed Victor’s shoulders, desperate to be closer to him.

“I know.  I know.”

Victor kissed him again, though the fervor began to bleed out of them, transforming into something soft and slow and penetrating. 

“I hate not being close to you,” Yuuri breathed, Victor’s lips catching on his.

“Me too.”  Victor pressed his face into the curve of Yuuri’s neck.  “It hurts.”

“Victor,” Yuuri said simply, swallowing against his guilt.  Though Victor was with him and they were clearly on the path to recovery, there were still words he needed to say, confessions he needed to make.  He’d hurt Victor, and Victor deserved to know why.  If for no other reason than he never wanted this to happen again.  “Take me to the bath.”

Without replying, Victor tightened his grip on Yuuri’s rear and eased him off the wall.  A distant part of Yuuri tingled at the display of strength, Victor carrying him like he was weightless.  He was strong, in control.  Clinging to his shoulders, Yuuri kissed the side of his neck.

Victor sat Yuuri on the wide frame of the giant tub and moved to fiddle with the knobs.  Though it was only for a few seconds, Yuuri hated that Victor had stopped touching him.  It made their connection feel threadbare, a chill seeping through.

“Victor,” he whispered, unwilling to give words to his neediness.  Victor glanced at him, and Yuuri’s unease must have read on his face because he rushed to finish setting the temperature and went to him.  Dropping to his knees, Victor situated himself between Yuuri’s legs.  He held him at the hips. 

“Okay?” Victor asked quietly, as if someone could hear them.

With a deep breath, Yuuri nodded.  He tucked a strand of hair behind Victor’s ear.

“Can I take my costume off?” Victor asked.

“No.”

“No?”

“I want to take it off for you.”

Victor’s pupils dilated, his lips parting.  With gentle fingers Yuuri popped open the first button on Victor’s shirt, working his way down when Victor made no move to stop him.  Compared to other figure skating costumes, the suit was easy to dismantle, but Yuuri took his time.  Savoring every sliver of skin that was revealed to him, Yuuri caressed and scratched until goosebumps rose in his wake. 

He imagined that this was a form of worship, of healing.  He’d been careless with Victor’s emotions.  Now he was going to be careful with his body.

Victor shuddered when Yuuri pushed the jacket and shirt off his shoulders, revealing the entire chiseled landscape of his torso.  His skin was unblemished, sticky with dried sweat and hot under Yuuri’s touch.  Victor jerked when Yuuri snapped open his trousers and pressed his mouth to his collarbone.  He sucked, the taste of salt bursting on his tongue.

Hooking his thumbs under the band of Victor’s dance belt, Yuuri pushed it down his hips, taking the trousers with it.  He noticed belatedly that Victor was shaking, a tremor rocking through him when he was fully exposed. 

“Take the rest off,” Yuuri ordered, quiet, as he released him and unzipped his own jacket.  Victor was uncharacteristically clumsy as he struggled to kick off his sneakers, which were tangled in his pants.  By the time he managed to free himself, Yuuri was out of his shirt, a smirk curling his lips.

“Are you laughing at me?” Victor asked.

“I would never.”

“Really?  That’s too bad.  You’re cute when you laugh,” Victor said with a wink.

Rising to his feet, he moved to test the water and adjust the faucet as Yuuri finished stripping.  His ears burned at the compliment. 

When the bath was ready, Victor pulled Yuuri to his feet and slipped his arms around him, drawing their naked bodies flush together.  The proximity was heady, a singular, visceral reconnection that was so soothing Yuuri almost sobbed in relief.  He couldn’t believe he’d denied himself this.

Fingers weaving through the hair on the back of Yuuri’s head, Victor touched his lips to Yuuri’s pulse point.

“I missed you,” Victor whispered.  “I can’t stand feeling distant from you.”

Victor took Yuuri’s glasses off for him and set them aside, before nudging him towards the bath.  He stepped into the hot bath, pulling Victor in after him with a grip on his wrist.

Victor sat back in the contoured edge, sighing contentedly and bracing his arms back on the rim.  Yuuri stared down at him.

“Come here, baby,” Victor murmured.

With a breath, Yuuri gathered his resolve and climbed on top of Victor, straddling him.  Victor’s hands came up to cup his lower back.  Staring down at him, Yuuri laid his palms on Victor’s chest and sat back on his thighs.

“I need to explain myself to you,” Yuuri said.

“You don’t—”

“I do.”

“Okay.” 

Yuuri took a breath through his nose, and began.

He talked about the flight, how traveling made him anxious on the best of days, and how he couldn’t stop obsessing over ruining Victor’s comeback.  He talked about closing himself off to protect them both, how he never meant to hurt him or burden him.  Yuuri expected Victor to interrupt, but he didn’t.  He just stared up at Yuuri, listening intently and stroking his hands up and down Yuuri’s back.

“Whenever we have sex,” Yuuri continued, blushing despite himself, “I always feel really…raw afterwards.  Like I can’t hide anything from myself or from you.  I knew that if we had sex, as much I wanted to, and believe me, I did, there would be some kind of fallout after.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Victor said.  His eyes were sad, the corners of his lips downturned.  “I would have understood.”

“I know, I know you would have but,”  Yuuri struggled to find the words, “I knew that if I said it out loud, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

“That’s why you were distant.  Why you were avoiding me.”

“Yes.  Well, it didn’t matter because I had an attack anyway.”

“When?”

“While you were in the shower.  That’s why I went for a walk.  And for the record, I _did_ leave you a note,” he couldn’t help but reiterate.

Understanding bloomed on Victor’s face.  He nodded, then shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” Victor said.  “When I came out of the bathroom and you were gone, I…I don’t what I thought.  I suppose you could say I have—“

“Abandonment issues?”

They both winced.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me.”

Somehow, that helped.  The embarrassment smoothed away from Victor’s face.

“So what can we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again?” Victor asked.  “Should we…not have so much sex?”

“What?  No!  Are you insane?”

The breath punched out of Victor, relief and faint amusement softening his features.

“Then what?”

“I think we just need to be more honest with each other.  Stop thinking we know what’s best for the other person.  And maybe after we do have sex you could…um…”

“Hold you?” Victor said, sliding his fingertips up Yuuri’s sides to his chest and neck.  “Kiss you?”  He grazed the pad of his thumb across Yuuri’s lip.  “Tell you how lovely you are after you come, all flushed and pliant for me?  Is that what you want?”

Yuuri clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes against the arousal crawling in his veins.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“With pleasure, Yuuri.”

Yuuri kissed him, angling his head with fingers on Victor’s jaw.  Licking into his mouth, he punctuated with a slow grind of his hips.  Victor gasped.  His wet fingers clenched in Yuuri’s skin.

“I never want this to happen again,” Yuuri said.  “I’m going to be better for you.  I swear, I--”

“I don’t need you to be better.  I just need you to talk to me.”

Yuuri nodded, nuzzling their temples together, and moved his hips again.

“I can’t promise that I won’t have bad days,” he said.

“Neither can I.”

“But I will try to be honest with you about them and explain what I need.”

“And I will do my very best to listen, and not assume you’re leaving forever if you step out for a few minutes.”

Yuuri breathed a laugh into Victor’s mouth.  He didn’t stop moving his hips.

“You’re like a dog,” he said breathily.

“You’re not the first person to say so.”

“Is that why you like them so much?”

“Are you asking if I like dogs because they share my _abandonment_ _issues_?”

Victor arched a playful eyebrow, and Yuuri grinned back.  It felt so good to be back to teasing and bantering with Victor, especially about the things that had pulled them apart.  It quelled the fear inside of him, proved yet again that they would get through this.

“Just making conversation.”

“You don’t need to make conversation while you’re grinding on me.  I assure you, I’m sufficiently engaged.”

“I can see that,” Yuuri said, glancing down suggestively at where Victor was hard beneath the surface of the water.

“In fact, I can think of far more interesting things for your mouth to be doing,” Victor said, gaze dropping to Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri kissed him.  He poured his longing, his relief, into every nip and sweep of tongue.  Still, there was nothing rushed in their movements.  Both of them seemed content to explore each other’s mouths and let the arousal build gradually.

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered, smearing kisses across Victor’s cheekbone, “I need to be closer to you.”  He gathered his resolve, forced himself to be honest, just as he’d promised.  “I want you inside of me.  More than before.  I want all of you.”

Victor twitched, then froze.  For the briefest moment Yuuri worried he’d said too much, then Victor’s arms squeezed around him.  He buried his face against Yuuri’s neck.

“You don’t have to.  It’s not required, I’m happy with what we—”

“I _want_ to,” Yuuri said.  “I’ve been ready for a while.  I think about it all the time.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, strained.  “If you think the drop after sex is intense now, it’s going to be a lot worse if we do that.”

Yuuri was about to say he could handle it, that it didn’t matter.  He just wanted to feel connected, linked, and he trusted Victor to take care of him, but Victor interrupted him.

“I’m not trying to tell you what’s best for you.  I just…”  Victor took a shaky breath.  “I just know it’s going to be a lot, even for me.  I don’t think I could focus tomorrow.  I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it and parting from you, even to skate, would be…difficult.”

With two hands on Victor’s jaw, Yuuri tilted his head back until their eyes met.

“Then how about this,” Yuuri said, voice low.  He twisted until Victor’s dick slipped beneath him, sliding up the crease of his ass. “If you win gold tomorrow, and only if you win gold, I’m going to take you back to this room, and we’re going to lock ourselves in, where no one will bother us, where you won’t have to part from me at all.”  He tilted down, murmuring right into Victor’s ear.  “And then I want you to fuck me.”

Yuuri leaned back to watch his words hit.  He’d spoken in their private language, designed his phrasing specifically to Victor’s weaknesses, his desires and competitive nature.  It also might have been the first time he’d said “fuck” in Victor’s presence.

“Wow,” Victor said, predictably.  He blinked up at Yuuri, eyes glistening with wonder, a high flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the hot bath.  “You’re sure you wouldn’t want to—” Victor broke off when Yuuri moved his hips back and forth.  His eyelids fluttered, breath stuttering.  “Wouldn’t want to try it the other way?  For your first time.”

“I already told you.  That’s how I want you,” Yuuri said, nipping his bottom lip.  “Can’t you give me what I want?”

“Yes.  God, yes.”

“Good.  Then I suggest you win tomorrow.”

Victor looked at him with wide eyes, blown black.  He offered Yuuri a short nod, and Yuuri felt a familiar surge of power.  Perhaps he wasn’t such a different coach from Victor.

For the rest of their bath, they made no move to get each other off.  Yuuri knew they’d arrive there eventually.  For the interim they both seemed content to explore their bodies.  Victor washed him, slow and intimate, hardly separating their mouths as he did, and Yuuri returned the favor. 

By the time the water cooled they were both pruned and scrubbed clean, lips puffy from kissing. 

After drying off with the softest towels Yuuri had ever used, Victor led them back into the bedroom.  They slipped between the sheets, smooth on Yuuri’s overstimulated skin, and entwined together.

“Does all this mean you’ll be my coach tomorrow?” Victor said, combing his fingers through Yuuri’s damp hair.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Yuuri snorted.

“You don’t need to flatter me to get me to be your coach.  I figured it was obvious I would be.”

A smile stretched Victor’s mouth and he pressed it into Yuuri’s lips.

“I wasn’t trying to flatter you,” he whispered.

They stared at each other, open and exposed as they’d never been before.

When they kissed this time, it was charged with intent for completion, for freedom from the pent-up arousal they’d been stoking all evening.  Everything dissolved into the hot drag of fingers and skin and wet heat.  There was no finesse, no skill involved.  They twisted together, tugging on each other until moans broke into sobs of release. 

“Maybe we should have done this before we bathed,” Yuuri said, when they were sticky and sated, and Victor had kissed him through the fallout after.

“I’ll clean us off in a moment.”  Victor’s eyes were half-lidded.  He looked drunk.

“You’re going to fall asleep, aren’t you.”

“Nope.”  Yuuri arched an eyebrow.  “Maybe.  I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Yuuri felt a pang of guilt, but he battled it back.  He wasn’t going to dwell on his mistakes anymore.  Or at least he was going to try.

“You still need to eat dinner.  I’ll order some room service.”

“Yes, coach.”

As Yuuri pushed aside his anxiety about phone conversations and called the front desk, he let Victor’s words wash over him. 

He was glad to be his coach again.

 

 

 

The next morning everything was different. 

There was no polite mask keeping Yuuri from reading Victor’s emotions, and no need to protect them from his own.  They were attuned, in sync.

What’s more, they couldn’t seem to stop staring at each other.  Yuuri’s promise of Victor’s reward for winning crackled in the air about them, charging every touch of their fingers, every stolen kiss.

Yuuri was beginning to understand Victor’s point about not fucking until after the competition.  It was hard enough to focus as it was.  All he wanted to do was get Victor alone and naked, preferably on top of him. 

As they walked down the hall to the locker room, Yuuri leaned close to voice this compulsion, weaving their fingers together.

“Victor, I—“

“If you two don’t cut it out I’m going to throw up on you,” Yurio barked, shoving between them and stomping down the hall.

Blushing, Yuuri straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets.  He maintained the distance Yuri had made between them.  Apparently he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was.

“What were you going to say?” Victor asked as they resumed walking.  Yuuri could tell from his tone that he already knew.  It was irritating.  Glancing at him through his eyelashes, Yuuri licked his lips, pleased when Victor tracked the movement.

“I’ll tell you after you win for me.”

Yuuri knew from the spark in Victor’s eyes that he was going to skate as he never had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your wonderful support in this project! I'm gonna' be so sad to see it end in the next couple chapters. That said, I have some other ideas in the works (I just can't say farewell to these two just yet), so please feel free to come by [my tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/) to get updates or ask questions or just say hi! 
> 
> I love hearing from all of you like Phichit loves his selfie stick ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm gonna write a sexy fun short chapter! Should be finished in no time.  
> Me to me: Write 4.5k of the most intense, complex interpersonal shit you can think of  
> 

Victor’s name reverberated from the speakers above them, inciting a deluge of cheers from their audience.  Yuuri ignored them, his mind locked with the man before him.

Victor leaned into Yuuri, the half-wall a barrier between them, and pressed their temples together.

“I feel like a suitor, battling to show I’m worthy of deflowering you.”

“And are you?” Yuuri said, his voice a purr he didn’t know he was capable of making.

“Shall I show you?”

In an instant, the playful, seductive air between them shifted.  Victor pulled back and their eyes met.

“Show me,” Yuuri breathed.

With a nod, Victor kissed his cheek, feather-light, and glided to the center of the rink.  He posed, the open fabric on his chest spreading.  His free skate costume was almost identical to Yuuri’s, deep magenta where his was dark blue.

He winked at Yuuri, and the [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3ykwEuveUA) started.

Though Yuuri had seen the routine countless times, Victor was so different that he barely recognized it. 

 _Victor on Ice_ was a memoir, a ballad of the living legend, the greatest figure skater of all time, laid bare.  It was culmination of Victor’s career, but more than that, it was an honest expression of the man behind the gold.  His faults, his fears, his devotion, woven into his countenance and the flow of his body.

Every single soul in the room was captivated, yet none of them saw what Yuuri did.  This program was not for them.  It was for Yuuri, and it was for Victor.  A response to the love letter Yuuri had written with his own skates.

Victor’s life unfolded before him.

In the cry of violin strings and the desperate spins and reaches, Yuuri saw the lonely, frenetic child Victor used to be.  He saw a father who never existed, a mother who was too weak to love her genius child as he deserved.  He saw Yakov, finding him skating in a park and offering an escape, a future.  Glory.

He saw the birth of Victor’s success in his first perfect jump, a triple Salchow, and his obsession and utter uniqueness in the discovery and execution of his signature move. 

And he heard himself in the gentle piano fluttering underneath it all, watching and loving from the start, if from a distance.  The violin called for it, waited for it to save it from itself, beseeching, “Stay close to me” into the ether.

In the briefest moment, Victor’s eyes met with his, and Yuuri felt the shift.  Yuuri was entering the song of his life.

Yuuri didn’t feel the tears on his cheeks until he saw those glistening on Victor’s.  The violin and the piano twined together, melting into something new.  It was theirs.  It was raw and painful in its blistering intimacy, in the way it scorched their wounds from their souls and fused them together in the healing.

Yuuri had loved Victor his entire life, but in the past year he had found feelings for him that he didn’t know existed, didn’t know could run so deep. 

And yet, none of those moments compared the feeling coursing through him now.  Through them both.

Victor was a force of nature, a god among men, a revolutionary, and Yuuri was his savior.  Yuuri had breathed life into his work, given meaning to simplicities that Victor had never known, but needed more than anything.  He’d filled a space inside him that was carved out too young, too early.  He’d made him human.

And Victor had saved him too.  He’d given him confidence and fire, had quelled the storms inside of him and cut the fetters that held him down.  More than that, he’d given him the support to free himself, to build strength that didn’t rely on anyone else, and so would stay with him forever.

With a fierce, powerful burst, Victor soared through his final jump; a quad lutz.  It was flawless.  A true smile blossomed on Victor’s face.  The crowd made a noise of wonder, for while they’d seen Victor’s smiles countless times, the shallowness behind them wasn’t obvious until now.

The end of the song was nothing but piano.  It was Victor’s farewell to his old life, his old career.  His world had restructured around Yuuri, around the life and love they had found together. 

The crowd roared around him as Victor posed, one hand over his heart, the other extended to Yuuri.  The music faded.

Yuuri was hardly conscious of running.  His world had narrowed down to the man who wore his ring.

They collided.  Victor’s lips were all over his face, sweat and breath smearing into his skin.  Words wouldn’t come, but they were superfluous anyway. 

He was not conscious of how they managed to stumble to the kiss and cry.  Every effort was dedicated to not kissing Victor, to not ripping his costume from his body and demanding to be taken then and there.  He felt too full, close to bursting.

The only thing that broke their intense focus on each other was the announcement of Victor’s score. 

He’d broken Yuuri’s record by .25 points.

Their eyes locked and a spark passed between them.  Yuuri smirked.

“I’ll be coming for you,” he murmured, a challenge sharpening his tone.  Victor tilted close.

“You can bet on it.”

Yuuri’s first reaction was to turn scarlet, terrified that the cameras caught how Victor’s tongue had darted out to wet his ear.  Then he pulled back and gave Victor the most potent eye roll he could muster.

“That’s the worst one yet.”

“You love my pick-up lines.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“The way you’re blushing for me.  I bet it goes all the way down to your chest.”

Victor mouthed his words into Yuuri’s jaw.

“ _Victor_.”

“If you’re like this now, I can’t imagine how flushed you’re going to be for me when I get you back to the room.”

Yuuri’s cheeks burned traitorously.

“You haven’t gotten the gold yet,” Yuuri reminded him, though he knew in his gut that Victor had already won.  And even if he hadn’t, there was no way Yuuri would not take what he wanted. But Victor didn’t need to know that just yet.

He grabbed Victor by the arm and tugged him out of the kiss and cry, ignoring the flash of cameras.

“Let’s go watch Yurio,” he said.  “He’s probably angry that you beat my record.”

“Yurio?  Angry?  Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

 

 

Victor won.

Waiting for him to accept his medal was excruciating.  Yuuri gnawed on his lip, arms clenched across his chest, as the ceremony dragged.  Victor seemed to share his impatience.  He shuffled back and forth on the podium, a tight smile stretching his face.  His eyes kept darting to Yuuri and then away.

Yurio glared up at Victor from the next tier down, before leaning close to whisper something that made Victor laugh.  Yuuri guessed he must have said something particularly colorful (insulting).

As soon as it was over, Yuuri turned, and knew without seeing that Victor was on his heels. 

They made it all the way to the room, the door shutting behind them, before Yuuri allowed himself to look at him.

Their eyes met.  Yuuri had a strange sense of unreality about what they were about to do.  It almost felt silly to place so much weight on what was essentially just another kind of sex.  Still, whether the importance of it was legitimate or imaginary, anticipation crackled in the air between them.

“You won,” Yuuri said stupidly.

“Yes.”

They stared at each other, neither seeming to know how to proceed.  Then, in unison, they stepped together.  Yuuri’s hands curled in Victor’s shirt, Victor’s fingers finding the edges of his jaw.

Victor kissed him, once.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he whispered.

“I know.  I want to.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I--I’m nervous.”

“Does it help if I admit I am as well?”

Yuuri looked up at Victor through his lashes.

“Really?”

“It feels like my first time.  I’ve never done this with someone I…with someone I--”

Yuuri knew the word Victor wanted to say.  

“Yes,” Yuuri said, swallowing and giving Victor an out.  His hands twitched.  “I don’t know how to begin.”

“How about this,” Victor said, kissing the crease of Yuuri’s mouth, then the tip of his nose.  “I’m going to take my costume off and have a quick shower.”  He kissed the space underneath his eye, then his forehead, using the familiar steadiness of his coaching voice.  “I want you to have a glass of water and wait on the couch for me to finish.  Do you understand?”

Yuuri nodded.  He released a shaky breath.

“Good.  You’re so good for me,” Victor murmured into his hair.

A ripple of arousal went through Yuuri at the praise, harnessing that part of him that trusted Victor to take control, to tell him what to do and set him up to succeed.

“Hurry,” he said, barely more than a breath.

The wait lasted a lifetime, but Yuuri did as he was told.  He drank from his water bottle in gulps, doing his best to sit without fidgeting.  Sweat beaded on his shoulders, so he pulled off his track jacket.  It wasn’t enough.  His skin felt oversensitive, suspense making every sense hyperaware.

With a growl, he stripped, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking his pants and socks aside.  Victor emerged from the bathroom just as he’d hooked his thumbs under the band of his briefs.

Yuuri flew to his feet, face hot as he jerked his hands from his underwear.  Victor was naked.  He hadn’t even bothered to wrap a towel around his waist. 

“Yuuri,” Victor said.  His eyes dragged down Yuuri’s body like a caress.  With slow, careful steps, Victor came to him.  His fingers found the base of Yuuri’s neck, then traced a slow path to his ribs.  “There’s that blush.”

Pointing it out made him burn harder, from the tips of his ears to his chest.  He shivered against Victor’s fingers.

“I can’t help it,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Victor.”

“Yes, darling?”

Yuuri glared at him.

“Kiss me.”

A pause.  Victor reached up and plucked off Yuuri’s glasses.  He set them on a small table.  Tension was thick as spores in the air.  Yuuri felt every beat of his heart.

They crashed together.

With mouths open, their teeth clicked, fingernails catching as they scrabbled at bare skin.  The scent of Victor flooded Yuuri’s senses like a pheromone.  A wild, painful need to be close, to be filled, vibrated through him.

Victor’s hands dropped to his ass and kneaded the flesh.  Without words, Yuuri jumped as Victor lifted him into his arms.  His legs circled Victor’s waist and he held tight to Victor’s shoulders.  Their mouths never parted.

The room around Yuuri sunk into a kind of fog as they crashed around it.  At points his back hit the wall, where Victor braced against it to kiss him deeper, and then the desk, where Yuuri arched up to rub them together.  The lamp was knocked to the floor with a thud, but neither of them acknowledged it.

Then, somewhere around the couch, Victor tripped.

They tumbled to the floor, Victor’s hand cushioning the back of Yuuri’s head.  They narrowly avoided the coffee table. 

Yuuri huffed, the breath punching out of him at the impact.  He blinked up at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” Victor said, panting, as he pushed up on his arm to see Yuuri’s face.  “Are you alright?”

Victor’s hair was a mess from where Yuuri had raked his fingers through it.  He looked ridiculous.  A high-pitched giggle bubbled from Yuuri’s throat.  He tried to stop, but Victor’s weight on his chest seemed to make it worse.  All the nervous energy escaped him at once.

“What’s so funny, Katsuki?”  Victor fought the smile tugging at the edge of his lips, and failed.

“I thought you were supposed to be graceful.”

He laughed harder when Victor’s brow pulled down in affront.

“I am the embodiment of grace.”

“Your hair looks funny.”

Victor’s eyebrows climbed his forehead.  For a moment, Yuuri thought he was going to hurl some witty retort, but then he moved.  Grabbing Yuuri around the waist, he manhandled him until he was bent over the couch cushions, his knees on the carpet.   The mood shifted in an instant.

Victor leaned over his back and whispered in his ear.

“I’ll teach you to laugh at your coach.”

Yuuri trembled.  Mouthing a line from his nape to his spine, Victor dragged off Yuuri’s briefs and tossed them aside.  The cool air was unbearable on Yuuri’s over-sensitive skin, but he found himself spreading his knees unconsciously.  Offering himself.

Victor traced the path his mouth had drawn with a fingertip, but didn’t stop when he reached the crease of his ass.

“I told you once that I was going to put my mouth on you here until you begged for me.”

Yuuri remembered.  Victor had been helping him stretch, and the words echoed in his head ever since.

“I think I’d like to fulfill that promise now.  Will you let me?”

Yuuri’s mouth was dry.  He nodded, fisting the couch cushions until his fingers were numb.

Victor took his time, exploring the heated skin of Yuuri’s back with soft brushes of lips and tongue and teeth, working his way down.  His finger slid gently over the place his mouth would soon be, a warning of what was to come.  Victor was giving him a chance to anticipate, to rally himself.

It didn’t work.  Nothing could have prepared him for the wet heat between his cheeks, for the insistent press of a tongue.  He jerked, meaning to pull away, but found himself canting his hips into the sensation instead.

A strange sound rumbled from his throat, something between a whine and a moan that he had never made before.  It seemed to spur Victor on, to make his fingers dig into Yuuri’s hips and tilt him closer. 

Time contorted, all of Yuuri’s focus narrowing down to the extreme intimacy of what Victor was doing.  Sweating, he buried his face into the cushion and gave himself to it.  He felt Victor’s touch down to his toes, the top of his head, in his lungs.  It was as if Victor had found the epicenter of his pleasure, and was playing with it, coaxing tingles and shudders out of him leisurely, like he had all the time in the world.  Yuuri was only distantly aware of how hard he was, until Victor lightly traced the underside of his shaft.

He cried out, " _Please_ ," and Victor pulled back.

Yuuri was utterly pliant in Victor’s hands, crawling into his lap.  Shushing him, Victor rubbed his back as Yuuri squeezed Victor’s waist with his thighs.  Yuuri accepted the comfort of his embrace without shame.

“You are perfect, do you know that?” Victor said, kissing his collarbone.

“Is…is that…what if felt like when I did it to you?”  He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

“I should hope so.”

In the aftermath, with spit cooling between his legs and the warm plane of Victor’s chest against his own, something new started to flare in Yuuri.  He tipped back and stared into Victor’s eyes.

“I want more.”

“Yeah?”  Victor breathed.

“I want you.  All of you.”  Yuuri pushed their pelvises together.  Victor’s hardness matched his own.  “I want to feel you come inside me.”

The blue of Victor’s eyes was overcome by black, his rosy mouth dropping open.

“I should know by now that I can’t predict you.  Even like this.”  Victor shook his head.  He touched Yuuri’s face like he was something precious.  “Perhaps especially like this.”

“Victor.”

Victor threaded his fingers in Yuuri’s hair, folding it away from his face.  He was open, fond, vulnerable.

“Take me to bed,” Yuuri whispered.

With far more grace than he demonstrated before, Victor gathered Yuuri in his arms and heaved to his feet.  He kissed Yuuri’s neck as he carried him to the bed and laid him, carefully, on his back.

Their mouths aligned, and Yuuri sank into the simple pleasure of kissing Victor, no barriers between them.  Not of fabric, not of mind.  They opened for each other, immersing in the familiar heat and taste.

Victor rocked against him, and the ember of arousal was slowly fanned, until breaths became gasps.

“Come on, Victor.  I want it.”

“I…have to prepare you.”

“Do it.”

With a reluctant huff, Victor separated them, going to his bag.  Yuuri shivered, exposed without Victor’s weight on him. 

When Victor returned, he had a small bottle.  He coated his fingers generously with its contents, before his eyes locked with Yuuri’s in a request for permission, swiftly granted.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” Victor ordered, braced over him on his forearm.  Yuuri rushed to comply, as Victor snuck his hand into the meager space between them.  A flinch jolted through Yuuri when his fingers made contact, the skin puckered and sensitive after the sweet worship of Victor’s mouth.  The first finger slipped in easily.

“It feels different than before,” Yuuri gritted out.

“Because I put my mouth on you?”

Yuuri licked his lips.

“Yes.”

Victor added another finger.  He was slow and careful, never allowing the ache to sharpen.  Later Yuuri might appreciate the time he was taking.  As it was, he was irritated.

“You’re taking too long.”

“You can’t be over-prepared for this, Yuuri.”

“I’m ready, do it now.”

Victor moved his fingers in and out delicately, making no move to hasten.

“You aren’t ready, and I’ll do it when I know it’s not going to hurt you.”

Yuuri growled, writhing on the sheets.  He clenched his fingers into Victor’s back, felt the need swell inside him like an itch.

“I don’t care if it hurts.”

“Well I do.”

“It’s my body.”

“And do you trust me with it?”

That pulled Yuuri up short, staunching the near-animalist fervor welling up in him.  He trusted Victor with his body in every possible way; on the ice, in the bedroom, for the rest of his life.

“I…yes.  Yes, of course I do.”

Victor pressed their foreheads together. 

“Then let me take care of you.  I only want to bring you pleasure, Yuuri.  Nothing else.  It’s not…you deserve it.  I want to be the one who gives it to you.”

When Victor resumed, Yuuri didn’t say anything more.  He gave himself to Victor’s fingers, to the frequent kisses given to his lips, his jaw, his neck.  By the time Victor had worked three into him, he was trembling again.  He felt Victor’s touch everywhere.  Sweat dampened the hair at his nape and his forehead.  His lip was raw from where he’d chewed on it.

“R-ready now?” he asked.

Victor’s throat bobbed.  His eyes were wide and dark.

“Yes.  Yes, I think so.”

“Please,” Yuuri said.  His tone was embarrassing in its naked desperation. 

Victor reached for a condom but Yuuri stopped him with fingertips to his cheek.

“Do we have to?” he asked, knowing better by now than to demand anything where his safety was concerned.  “You know I’ve never…before, and you—“

“I’m clean,” Victor said.  “It’s up to you.”

“It’s the first time.”  Yuuri hoped his meaning was clear.  Speaking at all, let alone coherently, was extremely difficult.

“If it’s what you want…”

“It is.”

Victor nodded, once, and settled back on top of Yuuri.  Drawing his legs higher, Yuuri clutched him close.  They stared into each other’s eyes.

For the first time he glimpsed how nervous Victor truly was.  There was a bewildered dilation to his eyes and a tension to his mouth.  He was quivering, almost too subtly to notice.

“Come on,” Yuuri said.  He smoothed the curtain of his silver hair back.  “You won your gold.  Claim your prize.”

“This is more than that,” Victor whispered.  His eyes were glassy.

“You’re right.  But it’s still just you and me.  And I think you’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

The corner of Victor’s lip twitched; the shadow of a smile.

“You _have_ been very patient.”

“Victor,” Yuuri said, taking Victor’s face in his palms.  The connection between them pulled taut, and Yuuri felt Victor’s complete focus wash over him.  “Make love to me.”

He watched the potency of his words strike.  Yuuri had said a lot of things in the past year to shock and awe his coach, but the reaction was never so strong.  His jaw had dropped, his eyes were wide with disbelief.  His ears stained red.

“Now who’s blushing,” Yuuri couldn’t help but tease.

“You are the most…” Victor began.  He never did finish the sentence.  He didn’t need to.

“Come on.”

Jaw setting, Victor nodded and positioned himself. 

A hot, penetrating gaze locked them together as Victor breeched him, the crown slipping inside.  Yuuri tried to breathe through it, but it was like nothing he’d felt before.  Already, he was losing the line where he ended and Victor began, a link forming between them that went beyond the physical.  He felt Victor’s caged pleasure at the first clench of heat like it was his own.

“Okay?” Victor gasped.

“More.”  The word was guttural, driven by a primal compulsion for closeness.

Victor eased deeper, and Yuuri experienced every bit of him.  The smallest edge of pain cast the feeling in stark relief, made it clearer, bolder.  He was distantly aware that his fingers were clawing at Victor’s shoulders, but he couldn’t unspool them.  Every effort was directed towards accepting and feeling the intrusion, to committing it to memory.  He unraveled under the prism of blue, open eyes.

When Victor was finally seated inside, they both punched out sighs of desperate relief.  They were closer than ever before, as close as it was possible to be.  Yuuri felt an odd sense of accomplishment.

“This is not…how I thought it would feel,” Yuuri said, words broken by breath.

“It doesn’t,” Victor began, swallowed, “it doesn’t usually feel like this.”

Victor’s words vibrated inside him, transferred by the complete proximity.  Desire spiked.

“I need you to move,” he said.

Victor’s gaze flickered.

“I will, I just…need a second.”

Yuuri frowned.  Then he took in the black pupils and the high flush, the tension in Victor’s back.  He smirked.

“Trying to break my other record?”

Victor got his reference to their ballet night immediately.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice cracking as his flush spread.  

Teasing Victor reminded him that he wasn’t just doing this with his lover.  He was with his best friend.

“Oh, good.  So you won’t mind if I do this…”  Yuuri tilted his hips back, slow, letting Victor slide almost all the way out before he eased him deep again.  Victor’s eyes rolled back.  A whimper escaped Yuuri’s throat, unbidden.  The sundering and rejoining was much more intense than he’d anticipated.

“Yuuri.  As much as I enjoy when you tease me, I’d prefer not to come like a teenager the first time I fuck you.”

The curse word prickled on Yuuri’s skin. 

“Yes,” he breathed.  “You’re right, I—”

Victor silenced him with a kiss. 

Yuuri gave everything he had to it, curling their tongues together, until enough time had passed that Victor started moving again.  At first, he did nothing more than nudge against him. 

Then, it started to build. 

With arms wrapped around Yuuri’s back, Victor rolled into him, pulling out further every time.  Each escalating push made tingles burst inside him.   And yet Victor kept the pace painfully slow, letting each second shine.

A rush of emotion and sensation swamped Yuuri, overwhelmed him.  He could not distinguish one feeling from the next.  They were all muddled together, coalescing into something new.  Love and desire and exposure all fought with each other for dominance.  He could hardly bear it.

Victor stopped kissing him and lifted to meet his eyes.

“Yuuri, are you alright,” he said, suddenly frantic.  He cupped Yuuri’s face, eyes flitting back and forth between his.  “Does it hurt?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re crying, baby.”

Yuuri blinked.  He felt the hot moisture spill down to the pillow.

“Oh…I…I didn’t know.”

Victor started to pull away, and Yuuri halted him with a firm grip on his ribs.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed.  Victor froze, startled.  “That’s not why I’m…it doesn’t hurt.  Not like that.  It’s,” Yuuri searched for words.  He sniffled.  “I’m sorry, I—”

A whimper cut him off.  Now that he was crying, he couldn’t seem to stop.  He covered his face, trapping Victor’s hand against his cheek.

Victor shushed him, kissing his knuckles.

“None of that.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I understand,” Victor said.  “I feel it too.”

“Really?”  Yuuri let his hands fall aside.  Victor looked down at him.  His eyes were wet.

“It feels…it feels like everything.”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, exhaling in relief.  “It’s so much.”

“Too much?”

Yuuri genuinely considered.

“No.  You?”

“No.”

Victor carded his fingers through Yuuri’s hair.  A few soothing kisses were given to his lips.

After some light prodding from Yuuri, Victor started moving again.  He was slow at first, but Yuuri met his thrusts, coaxing him into a faster pace.  Yuuri moaned openly, not bothering to hold back.  Victor deserved to see the effect of his body, of his words.

“Harder,” Yuuri said.  “Please.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.  I always will.”

It was surprising how easily they found rhythm together, though perhaps it was inevitable given their shared profession.  They started to move like they were dancing, twisting together to a silent beat, chasing the building pressure.  Yuuri knew how Victor’s body moved, how his muscles flexed and released and Victor knew him too.

A gathering began inside him and Victor must have sensed it, because he took Yuuri in a slicked hand and stroked in time with his hips. 

Something cracked in Yuuri.  He felt devoured, taken from every angle.  Tears tumbled freely down his cheeks.  His legs folded further back, allowing Victor to hit the spot inside him that turned his knees to water.  Victor kissed him, then nuzzled the side of his face.

Yuuri knew they were on the edge of something, balanced on a precipice, teetering together, primed to fall.  They were so close, so intimate.  There was nowhere to hide.  No reason to want to.

Victor pressed his mouth to Yuuri’s ear and whispered to him in Russian.

“What did you say?” Yuuri asked, as he always did.

Pulling back, Victor looked at him with tears wet on his cheeks.  Yuuri was so shocked that he stopped moving.  Victor’s lips parted, and Yuuri knew his words before they were formed.

“I love you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this is my worst or best cliffhanger. I'm also not sure what the difference is.
> 
> I keep saying we're close to the end, but I really mean it this time. Your comments and kudos are food for my soul.
> 
> I love you like Makkachin will inevitably love Vicchan when they meet in the beautiful, steamed-bun-filled fields of dog heaven.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you like Yuuri loves Victor.

Time stopped.

It was as though Yuuri’s brain had short-circuited, unable to process what Victor had done.  He felt outside his body, suspended over them.  For the strangest moment he wondered if he was dreaming.

Blue eyes stared down at him.

“Victor,” Yuuri heard someone say. 

At the sound, reality came back to him.  He felt the slicked skin of Victor’s back under his fingertips, the hot tears on his face; the insistent press of Victor inside of him, and the coiled pleasure, ready to be released.

“You,” he cracked.  “I can’t believe you—I can’t believe—”

“Yuuri.”  Victor swiped the tears from Yuuri’s cheek with the back of his fingers.  His touch was reverent, tremulous.  “Haven’t I been telling you from the start?”

Instinctively, Yuuri wanted to disagree, but memory wouldn’t let him.  From the day Victor had come to Hasetsu, he’d been speaking his love.

And there was no room for doubt any longer.

“I love you,” Yuuri said.  He’d offered the words so often, so casually, that they felt cheap by comparison.

A sound broke from Victor’s throat, his eyes sliding shut, and Yuuri knew, though he couldn’t say how, that the last time Victor had spoken those words they were not returned.  For the first time, he truly understood.

They were so close that Yuuri understood everything.

“You didn’t need to give me this,” he said.

“I did.  I should have months ago.  You’ve always deserved them, more than...more than anyone else.”

“Still, I know—”

“This was for me too.  I needed to know that I could.  I needed to…let go.”

“Victor,” Yuuri said, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the tears fall.  He hugged Victor closer, though there was no space left between them.

“Marry me,” Victor said, and Yuuri’s eyes flew open.  “I know it’s silly, you’re already wearing a ring, but I never really asked you, and—”

“Yes,” he said, with the ease of simple certainty that he rarely felt about anything.

In the next blurred, luminous moment they were kissing.  Victor’s tongue was in his mouth, his hand finding Yuuri’s and lacing their fingers together.  The world dissolved into the resumed thrust of Victor’s hips, the slap of skin and huff of panting breaths.  It was easy to catch the thread of pleasure they’d been chasing before, and wind it tighter and tighter.

Now that Victor had finally spoken his love, he couldn’t seem to stop.  He kissed the words into Yuuri’s lips, his cheek, the shell of his ear.  The dam had broken, and every repressed “I love you” was flowing free.

Yuuri blossomed under them.  A feeling swelled inside him that was wholly new.  It spread over his entire body; a searing, decadent ache that would have been frightening if he didn’t trust Victor so completely.

“It’s so much,” Yuuri whimpered against Victor’s lips.  “Please.”  He didn’t know what he was asking for, but Victor seemed to, because he fit his hand between their bellies and gripped him again. 

The touch inundated him, even stronger than before.  He was flooded with an abundance of feeling.

“Come on, darling,” Victor said.  “I’m not going to last much longer.  Let me see you.”

With a sob, Yuuri gave himself to sensation.  His pleasure didn’t crest; it burned.  A blazing, shattering release that never seemed to cease, deepened by every roll of Victor’s hips. 

Victor watched him through it, his eyes wide.  Yuuri let everything show on his face, in his moans, and held Victor’s gaze.  Before, he hadn’t thought it was possible for them to feel closer, but they were one, moving in tandem, sharing their bodies and minds.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, holding his hot face in his hands when it had ceased.  He knew Victor needed one last push to find completion.  “I told you I wanted to feel you come inside me.”

“ _Yes_.”

“Give it to me.”  Yuuri licked his lip, leveling Victor with a hooded gaze.  “Vitya.”

With a gasp, Victor buried deep and shuddered, his jaw falling open.  Bliss and surprise shone beautifully on his features.  Yuuri absorbed every detail, committing them to memory, as Victor came apart in his arms.

Victor collapsed on top of him, angling just enough to the side so that Yuuri could breathe.  Normally, Yuuri would feel stifled in such a position, but it was just what he needed.  He felt protected, hidden, with Victor’s heat soaking into him. 

Though he savored the initial repose following sex, he knew what was coming.  He could sense it like the scent of snow on wind. 

The drop.

When it came, it hit hard. 

Yuuri started to shiver, though it was impossible to be cold with Victor so close.  As his rational mind returned, fear for what he had done and said trickled over him.  The descent was involuntary, like his chemical brain was acting out of habit, without his consent.  He’d pushed himself so hard, had felt so much in the last few days, and in the aftermath, he was crashing.  He felt raw in every possible way, sticky and vulnerable.  The needling sense that he had done something wrong prickled on his skin.

Victor rubbed slow circles on Yuuri’s chest as he kissed his face.

“You were so perfect,” he murmured.  “So lovely.  Never felt anything like that before.  God, your eyes when you come.  Can’t believe I get to see you like that.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, I—” Yuuri cracked.  He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.  It felt like he was crying, but he had no tears left in him. 

And yet, despite the intense, growing fallout, he was not embarrassed.  Victor knew him.  Victor expected this, and Victor had said he wanted to stay close to him too.

Suddenly, the girl from a Detroit hospital popped into his head.  He remembered warning Victor to not be like her, to not invade his feelings because he didn’t want comfort from people who weren’t allowed so close.

Things had changed since then.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, Yuuri.  You said you’d stay with me all day, and I’m holding you to it.  Just you and me.  You promised, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

Scratching his fingers through Yuuri’s no-doubt crazy hair, Victor kissed the tip of his nose.

“Come here,” he said.  Pushing to his feet, Victor helped Yuuri wrap his legs around his hips, and lifted him into his arms.  Yuuri clung to his shoulders, pressed his mouth to Victor’s neck.

“Where are we going?” he mumbled as Victor walked.

“To the bath.”

“We bathe too much.”

Victor laughed.

“Isn’t it our thing?”

“You just like being naked.”

“Not as much as I like getting you naked.”

Yuuri huffed, rolling his eyes, as Victor sat him on the wide edge of the tub.  He crossed his arms tight over his chest, tried not to acknowledge how violently he was shaking.  He expected Victor to point it out, but he just went to the faucet and fiddled with the nobs.

“When are you going to stop hitting on me?” Yuuri asked, almost managing his usual teasing tone.  If Victor wanted to pretend Yuuri wasn’t a mess right now, he’d happily play along.

Victor finished getting the water temperature set and came back to him.  He sank to his knees between Yuuri’s feet, resting his palms on his thighs.

“Maybe the day you admit you like it.”

With a wink, he leaned up to lock their lips together.  Yuuri clung to him with scrabbling fingers, desperate for the reconnection.  Victor soothed him with gentle strokes up his arms and legs. 

“I was right,” Victor said, after a moment.

“Mm?”

“I knew I couldn’t be parted from you after that.  Just the idea of it…”

“Me too,” Yuuri whispered, as if raising his voice would startle the spectre of his anxiety, lurking in the shadows.  “It’s…the worst it’s been this time.”

“I thought it might be.”

“But I don’t regret anything.”

Yuuri was prepared for Victor to not believe him, to claim Yuuri was hiding his true feelings and argue, but he only nodded.

“I’m glad.  I wanted it to be special for you.”

“It was.  I never want to do that with anyone else.”

Victor traced the edge of his jaw with a fingertip.  His eyes smiled.

“That is convenient, considering I’m your fiancé.”

“Yeah, thanks for not being bad in bed.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once the tub was filled, Victor nudged Yuuri into the hot water with him.  He laid back against the edge and maneuvered Yuuri between his legs, back to chest.  Yuuri let himself be weightless, sinking into the cradle of Victor’s muscles and the water.  Smoothing his hands down Yuuri’s belly, Victor trailed a line of kisses up the side of Yuuri’s neck.

“Are you sore?” he murmured, touching the crease of his hip.

Heat rose to Yuuri’s cheeks.

“A little.”

“Next time I’m going to use my tongue on you after.”

Yuuri jerked, whimpering softly, as Victor’s fingers slipped down to the sensitive place he meant.

“You like that, don’t you?  The idea of me licking you after you’re pink and swollen from me.” Victor said.  “God, you are incredible.”  Victor’s touch was impossibly delicate, but it sent tingling shocks up Yuuri’s spine, just on the edge of unpleasant.  He grabbed Victor’s wrist.

“Too much,” he slurred.

Victor’s hand moved to Yuuri’s stomach as he kissed an apology into Yuuri’s pulse point.  Yuuri frowned.  He felt the familiar childish compulsion to pay Victor back for flustering him.

“Victor?”

“Mmhmm?” Victor hummed, his lips in Yuuri’s hair.

“The next time you fuck me, why don’t you wear the gold medal?  I need something to bite on to.”

Yuuri smirked as he felt Victor flinch beneath him, his breath puffing out and fingers clenching.

“Touché.”

The rest of their bath was spent in relative silence, with nothing but the gentle lapping of the water and Victor’s murmurs of praise breaking the quiet.  He washed Yuuri with extreme tenderness, until he was warm to his bones and the tremors had ceased.

Yuuri still felt vulnerable, but a pleasant drowsiness had started to overtake his anxiety.  By the time the water had gone tepid, and Victor had toweled him off and gotten them back in bed, he knew the worst was over.

“I’m hungry,” he grumbled, curling into Victor’s chest beneath the covers.

“Do you want to call for room service?”

“No.  I never want to.  In fact, if you order all our food for the rest of our lives I’ll do anything you want,” Yuuri said, nuzzling against his collarbone. 

“I think I might be getting the better end of that deal.”

“You underestimate how much I hate talking to strangers on the phone.”

“But I’d be getting anything I want.  Wouldn’t you rather have that?”

“You already give me anything I want.”

Yuuri pulled back enough to watch the smile lighten Victor’s features.

Without another word, Victor reached for the menu.

 

The only thing that drew them from bed for the rest of the evening was the arrival of their dinner.  Victor, of course, had tried to answer the door totally naked, only agreeing to put on a robe after Yuuri tackled him to the floor and made numerous empty threats of chastity.  Yuuri hoped the poor boy at the door appreciated his efforts.

After, once they’d eaten way more food than necessary, they cuddled their way through a bad movie.  Or at least Yuuri thought it was bad when he could pay attention.  Yuuri’s lips were puffy from kissing by the time Victor switched off the light.

Turning over, Yuuri let himself be held him from behind.  Victor’s fingers drew the tingling pattern of his skating routine on Yuuri’s arm.

The bond they’d formed in sex still tied them together.  Victor’s thoughts and feelings were as clear to him as his own.  He didn’t feel anxious at all.

“Your skating was incredible today.  I don’t think I ever said that,” Yuuri spoke into the dark.

“It was all for you.”

“You must have really wanted to get laid,” Yuuri teased, earning a pinch on his side.  He squirmed in Victor’s arms, giggling a little.  He felt giddy in his fatigue.

“Plenty of skaters use forms of motivation to enhance their performance,” Victor said clinically, but the lack of denial was apparent anyway.

“Maybe from now on I’ll only sleep with you if you win, then.”

Victor’s body became a rigid line behind him.

“I…I don’t think it will be necessary to—”

“I’m kidding.  Besides, you always win so I don’t know what you’re so worried about.”

“I don’t always win.  And I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Oh, right, I forgot.  Funny, wouldn’t know it from how quickly you finish when we’re having s—”

Victor’s palm clamped over his mouth, cutting him off.  Yuuri smirked against his skin, before sticking his tongue out and making Victor recoil with a disgusted noise.

They wrestled weakly for a few moments, like two boys fighting in a sandbox, before they settled.  Victor nipped the arch of his shoulder.  His arm was a firm weight around Yuuri’s chest, their bodies spooned together and warm.

“I’m excited to go home,” Yuuri said after a silence.  He was surprised to find that travelling seemed far less intimidating than usual.

“To Hasetsu?  We can visit soon if you—”

“No.  That’s not where I meant.”  Yuuri looked over his shoulder and found Victor’s eyes in the dark.  They glistened in the low light from the window, reading his intention with ease.

Victor smiled.  It was true, unguarded, meant for no one but him.

After a lingering kiss, Yuuri turned back and settled into Victor’s embrace.  He’d barely closed his eyes before sleep crept up on him like mist.  He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was.

“I love you,” he said, and wondered if he’d spoken in a dream.

But then Victor’s voice rumbled against his nape, and he knew, without doubt or fear, that the moment was real.

“I love you too.”

 

 

Yuuri stepped over the threshold into Victor’s flat, startling when the door shut behind him.

Makkachin bounded up, tongue lolling.  He scampered back and forth between Victor and Yuuri, deliberating on who to drool on first.

Victor ended up winning (or losing), because he dropped his bags and flopped down on the floor.

Yuuri watched with a tired smile as Makkachin licked his face, climbing all over him.  Victor seemed to love the attention, but Yuuri silently vowed to make him wash up before he tried any kissing.

With a sigh that bled into a laugh, Yuuri kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat, stepping further into the flat.

He looked up, and paused.

A feeling washed over him that he hadn’t been expecting.  It was so strong, so complete.  He needed a moment to process.

“Yuuri?” Victor said, coming up beside him and wiping his face on his sleeve.  “Everything alright?”

Yuuri huffed a laugh at the question.  He was more than just “alright.”  He was comfortable, and relieved, and content. 

He was home.

“Yeah.  Everything’s great.”

Victor smiled in a heart-shape and leaned in to kiss him.  Yuuri ducked away.

“No, no, no--not until you’ve washed your face.”

Victor pouted dramatically.

“You don’t want to kiss your husband?”

“You aren’t my husband yet,” Yuuri said, backing away.  Pursuing him, Victor’s eyes sparked with mischief.

“Come on, Yuuri.  Give me a kiss.  It’s just a little dog drool.  You’ll hurt Makkachin’s feelings.”

“No way,” Yuuri said, darting behind the couch.  In a demonstration of ridiculous athleticism, Victor jumped over it, landing perfectly right in front of him.  Yuuri broke into a run, laughing, as Victor chased him around the kitchen, back through the living room, and into the bedroom, with Makkachin yipping at their heels.

“Do you forfeit?” Victor panted once he had Yuuri on his back on the mattress, his wrists pinned.

Yuuri gazed up at him, took in his rosy cheeks and happy eyes.  He watched the mood shift on Victor’s features.

“Yes,” Yuuri said.  “And you?”

Victor’s fingers slid down his arm, to his neck, then his cheek.

“For the rest of my life.”

Yuuri grinned.

“So you’ll wash your face?”

Victor groaned, shaking his head, but when he looked down at Yuuri his eyes were soft.  Open.  Honest.

And Yuuri knew he had already won.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END! (sort of....)
> 
> The next chapter will be an Epilogue, followed by several "Appendix" chapters of missing/additional scenes (including, like, the Hotel Handjob Scene™ after their Exhibition Skate, and their honeymoon). I hope you'll enjoy them!
> 
> As for new fics, I'm in the process of writing a 2 part angsty dark comedy for victuuri, which you can preview [HERE](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/158231783100/now-that-nerve-endings-is-coming-to-a-close-i#notes). 
> 
> I love you like I love Yuri!!! On Ice.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Epilogue is shorter than Minami.

It was cold.  Mist soaked the air, pinking Yuuri’s cheeks and ears, but his hand was warm in Victor’s grasp.

It had taken a lot to bring them here.

As they stared down at a name carved in stone, Yuuri didn’t speak.  He simply stood, close and steady, supportive in his silence.  They didn’t always need well-crafted words or emotional skating performances to know each other's thoughts these days.  No words could suit the weight of this moment anyway.

Over the months living in St. Petersburg, Yuuri had discovered so many ways to be close to Victor.  In quelled arguments, in quiet evenings on the couch, in the dark heat of the night when they touched and trembled and breathed into each other. 

Yet none of those moments felt as significant, as _intimate_ as this.

He let go of Victor’s hand only once; to place two white lilies beside the stone.  He knew Victor well enough not to stare at him as he rejoined their fingers, but he stole a glance.  Victor wasn’t crying.  His face was smoothed out, his eyes sad but strong.  Fearless.  Yuuri was unspeakably proud of him.

Yuuri knew that Victor had never taken anyone to this place before, not even Yakov.  He was showing a hidden, painful part of himself to Yuuri out of absolute trust.  There had never been anyone else to share in this, and there never would be.

Before, Yuuri would have been anxious about messing up in such a heavy moment, but now he knew how to handle Victor, when to push and when to let him set the pace.  Though this was perhaps the most significant thing Victor had shared with him, Yuuri was prepared, confident.  

“This is Yuuri,” Victor murmured.  It took Yuuri a second to realize who Victor was speaking to.  His eyes were on the stone, his jaw set.  Then Victor turned his head and looked at him.

“Yuuri,” he said.  “This is my mom.”

The back of Yuuri’s throat ached, but he didn’t let himself cry.  It wouldn’t be right for what Victor was trying to give them.

Yuuri took his time to choose the right response.  “Nice to meet you” felt false, and “hello” wasn’t enough.

He picked the most honest one. 

“Thank you,” he said in Russian.

He didn’t know if he’d said it to Victor, or to the phantom presence that had always been hiding in the shadows.  Yuuri knew her existence in Victor’s life had been flawed and sparse, but she was still the one responsible for bringing his greatest love into the world.  Gratitude was the least he could give, and while he was protective, frustrated that Victor hadn’t been given the childhood he deserved, he knew that feeling was selfish.  It would only hurt Victor to voice it.

A small, delicate smile curved Victor’s lips. 

“Come on,” he said, and turned.  Yuuri moved with him, their fingers entwined.  The path they walked weaved between pillars of stone.  It carried them to the gate. 

“I want to get some ice cream,” Victor announced.  Yuuri huffed a laugh.

“Crème brûlée?”

Victor’s smile brightened.

“How did you guess?” 

“I know you.”  Yuuri let the words run as deep and as true as they felt.

“Yes,” Victor said, squeezing his hand.  “You do.”

Yuuri kissed his temple and they left that place behind them, together.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I will update soon with the first chapter in the appendix, which will be the Hotel Hand Job Scene, to make up for the dinkiest chapter ever.
> 
> This little nugget was delayed because I wrote a one shot called [Puppy Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10540119) in which Yuuri gets turned into a dog and becomes Victor's new pet). I hope you check it out!
> 
> Your comments and kudos mean so much to me. I love you like the Plisetskys loves piroshki.


	19. Appendix Part One: After the GPF Exhibition Skate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this (if you haven't gathered) is the infamous GPF Hotel Hand-job Scene Victor and Yuuri reference a couple times in early chapters. It was a challenge to rewind all the progress these two doofs made in 18 chapters and put them back in square one, but it was rewarding to see how far they've come. Amazing what a little communication can accomplish, amirite? PS: this ended up being way more angsty than I expected but, it's me so...I really should have seen that coming.
> 
> I love you like Yuuri loves champagne.

When Yuuri stumbled into his Barcelona hotel room, giggling, it didn’t look the same as it had that morning.

Everything in his life was different, or at least felt like it.  The fact of his new world record, of surpassing Victor, hadn’t fully hit him until the Exhibition Skate.  All he’d ever wanted was to share the ice with his idol, and he had.  With his hand reaching out, Victor had glided to him, _Stammi Vicino_ playing in the air.

Moving in tandem with Victor through lifts and dips had felt like nothing they’d done before.  Sure, they’d rehearsed it several times, but that had involved a lot of teasing or focusing on technique.

When they’d actually been out there, touching and spinning to the song that had brought them together, Yuuri had lost himself.  The steady meeting and sundering of Victor’s gaze with his own had made some strange energy build between them.  They were connected.  One.

Though Yuuri had no context, it almost felt like sex.

Shrugging off his zip-up, Yuuri swore he could still feel the pressure of Victor’s hands on his waist.  He felt…weird.  Hyper.  As he watched Victor peel off his official Russian team jacket, revealing the pink costume beneath, the feeling from before returned with a vengeance.

“The last time I saw you wear that was a year ago,” Yuuri heard himself saying.

Victor turned and looked at him.  A smile creased his eyes.

“Still fits,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and posing.  “Even after all the katsudon.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything.  He let his eyes travel down and up Victor’s frame, slow, absorbing every detail.  He liked the way the black pants clung to Victor’s muscled thighs, the way the top tapered at his waist, the excess of pale skin revealed at his collar.  By the time he reached his face again, Victor’s smile had smoothed away.  Something was sparking in Victor’s eyes.  Yuuri could hear his breath, too loud, quick.

Yuuri turned away from him.  He felt like he was buzzing in his skin, like he couldn’t predict himself.  It made him nervous.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he announced.

“Want help taking your costume off?”  Victor’s voice was low, close.  Yuuri could almost sense his body heat.

“I…I don’t…”

Gently, Victor’s fingers teased at the hem at his hips and started tugging it up.

“Are you sure?”  Yuuri felt his breath on the side of his neck.  His skin tingled.  “I know how to take this off better than anyone.”

With a shudder, Yuuri closed his hands over Victor’s to stop him.  A faint kiss was pressed to his nape as Victor wove their fingers together.

“I…we have to get ready for the banquet,” Yuuri said.

Victor hummed into Yuuri’s skin.

“I’d rather celebrate here with you.”

It was harder than he expected, but Yuuri stepped away, putting space between them.  He looked at Victor over his shoulder.

“Later,” he said, then blushed furiously and scuttled to the bathroom.

Yuuri took his time alone to think.  He couldn’t believe how quickly they’d gone from their fight a few days before to this.  Though he’d hated arguing with Victor, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his abandoned plans of retirement.  They’d forced them to face the fact of the future, to make a decision about their relationship.

Together, they had survived one of their greatest hurdles, had come to a crossroads and decided they couldn’t go forward without each other.

Yuuri couldn’t say exactly why, but he knew they were on the brink of something.  He was ready to go further with Victor, to be vulnerable with him.

With a blush, Yuuri recounted every time he and Victor had been intimate.  After the Cup of China kissing became part of their private routine.  He could tell that Victor wanted to do more, but every time things had started to escalate, Yuuri got too overwhelmed and pulled away.

He kept waiting for the day Victor got sick of waiting, for his frustration.  Though it couldn’t be his true feelings, Victor acted content with whatever Yuuri was willing to give, which wasn’t much.

Still, despite his fear, Yuuri craved.  He wanted to test the skill of Victor’s lips, wanted to chase his soft skin to hidden places, to touch and claim.  He wanted to be free of his reservations, to lose himself in the sweet worship of Victor’s mouth and fingers.  He wanted to see Victor as no one else could.  He wanted to know Victor’s pleasure was because of him.

Yuuri was embarrassed to find himself swelling between his legs.  For a brief moment he considered touching himself, but something made him pause.  He flicked the shower nob to cold instead, and shivered until he was soft.

When he emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, Victor rose from where he was sitting on his bed.  He was wearing the white robe, his costume hanging in plastic by the window.  Yuuri's eyes caught on Victor's bare chest.

"I need to put my suit on," Yuuri said.  He licked his lips.

"Am I allowed to disagree?"

"We," Yuuri swallowed, "we have to leave soon."

"Yuuri," Victor said in voice that pierced through him.  Victor opened and closed his mouth several times, then clearly decided against whatever he was going to say.  His fingers twitched at his sides.  "If that's what you want."

“I don’t know what I want,” Yuuri mumbled to himself after Victor had closed the bathroom door behind him.

As Victor showered, Yuuri pulled on his suit and tried to calm down.  The powerful confidence and drive he'd harnessed that day to execute his free skate was still echoing within him.  It made him feel reckless, like he was above error, like he could do anything.

It was impossible not to stare when Victor emerged from the shower and began to dress himself.  Victor, as always, had no compunctions about nudity.  He was so slow in dragging on his clothes that Yuuri began to suspect he was doing it on purpose. 

With every added piece of the suit, Victor transformed.  It was fascinating how much Victor’s persona changed depending on what he was wearing.  He could be soft and lazy in his sweats and loose shirts, or dazzling and ethereal in his skating costumes.  Though Yuuri could never pick a favorite, he did adore the sight of Victor in his perfectly tailored suits.  It was the most masculine version of him, with the lines of his figure sharp and curved in turn, his eyes striking without sequins or flare to upstage them. 

Yuuri knew he would never deserve to stand beside him like this.  Yuuri was plain and awkward and--

“You’re staring, Yuuri,” Victor said, amused.  Yuuri flinched.  He rubbed the back of his neck and dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

"I should tell you," Victor said, stepping close.  Yuuri held his breath as Victor leaned in, touching his lips to Yuuri's jaw.  "You look beautiful."

“I don’t—"

“I can’t believe I get to have you as my date tonight.  This new suit is stunning on you.”

“You just like it because you picked it out.”

“And don’t I have good taste?”

“Maybe,” Yuuri muttered.

“How do you think I look?”

"You look..."

Yuuri bit the words back.  He wasn't good at giving compliments, felt too embarrassed to tell Victor what he really thought.  Victor leaned back to look at him expectantly.

"Yes?" he prompted with a smirk.  It was annoying.  Yuuri always felt off balance with Victor, flustered.  Victor had experience where Yuuri had none, and seemed to know what they were and where they were going before Yuuri did.

"You look like you."

Yuuri winced, but Victor seemed pleased.

"Like me, huh?  At least I don't look like Yakov."

Yuuri huffed a laugh.  Some of the nervous tension eased out of him.

"Not yet."

Victor clutched his pretend pearls in mock-offense.

"Not _ever_.  I'm going to look just like this when I'm eighty."

"So in a few weeks from now?"

Victor's jaw dropped.

"You wound me, darling.  Truly."

"I think you'll survive."

Yuuri smiled at him and watched the mask of affront slip from Victor's face.

"I don't know what you think is so amusing.  You're the one who has to grow old with me."

Yuuri’s smile fell away.  They had never explicitly stated their plans to stay together for so long.  Having Victor speak it was jarring.  It made him feel sick with fear of messing up and unspeakably happy at the same time.

Victor took Yuuri's hand and tapped on his ring.

"I haven't won gold yet," Yuuri heard himself say.  

"You will."

Yuuri cleared his throat, blinking.  The conversation had gone far beyond his intent, and Victor, it seemed, was even further ahead of him than he thought. 

Yuuri had to get them out of there.  He didn’t know what he would do or say if he didn’t.

"We need to go," he said.

"Whatever you want."

Victor followed Yuuri to the door.  His hand was a steady weight on the dip at Yuuri's lower back.  Yuuri felt the heat of his touch all the way down to his bones.

 

In most ways, the banquet was the same as the year before.  It was boring and stuffy, demanding social fluidity that Yuuri could never possess.  Still, he was in a decidedly better mood than the last time, at least from what he could remember.

Victor stayed by his side for most of the night, but obligation and demands for photographs separated them at points.

When that happened, Yuuri could still sense Victor's position in the room like there was a magnetic pull between them.  He'd stare at Victor until the conversation he was supposed to be schmoozing through blurred into the background.  Then Victor would glance at him, as if sensing his gaze, and an unfamiliar feeling would flutter in him.  Victor kept giving him a soft, private smile.  It made Yuuri feel hot and frustrated, craving something he didn’t fully comprehend.

"Having fun?" Victor asked as he approached after a particularly long separation, handing Yuuri a fresh glass of champagne.  His eyes were warm, intimate.

"More than last year, at least."

"I cannot say the same."  Curling his fingers into Yuuri's lapel, Victor tugged him close and whispered in his ear.  "There's little I wouldn't give to see you dance like that again."

Yuuri's cheeks burned.  His eyes darted around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them.

"You mean on a pole?"

"I mean for me.  With me."

"I danced with you today already."

"Yes.  I know.  I've been thinking about it all night."

Yuuri's collar suddenly felt too tight.  His palms sweat around the champagne flute.

"Me too," Yuuri whispered, then flinched. It felt like he'd revealed something fundamental.

"Yuuri, I--"

"Victor!" someone yelled, breaking the delicate moment between them.  "Come here for a second!"

Victor closed his eyes and sighed, but when he called back that he'd be right over his expression was as polite as ever.  

"I hope you finish your champagne by the time I get back," he murmured before he left.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Victor?"  Yuuri's chest warmed.

"Oh no."  Victor's lip twitched.  His eyes glinted.  "I'm trying to get you alone."

Yuuri managed to suppress his shudder until after Victor turned around.  He gulped down his champagne in a few swigs.  

"That's a great pic," Phichit said, startling Yuuri so badly he almost dropped his glass.  He shoved his phone in Yuuri's face, revealing an incriminating image of Victor whispering in Yuuri's ear.  Yuuri saw himself as he'd never looked before.  He was grinning, his face pink and eyes embarrassingly fond.  He looked like a fool in love.

"Please don't post that."

"Already have."

Yuuri groaned.

"Aren't you supposed to be my friend?"

"You'll thank me for these pictures at your wedding, trust me.  I'll make an album."

Heat flared in Yuuri's cheeks.

"Who says we're getting married?"

"Victor."

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I'm happy for you," Phichit said, touching Yuuri's elbow.  Yuuri looked at him.  "Really.  I've never seen you so...healthy before."

Squeezing the glass in his hand, Yuuri fought the prickle of impending tears.  The last thing he needed was to cry at another skating event.

"Thank you," Yuuri mumbled.  "I...I'm going to get another glass of champagne."

Phichit's whole face brightened in a way that Yuuri really did not care for.

"Going to make a repeat performance of last year?"

"We can only hope," Victor said, coming up behind Yuuri and slipping his hands around his waist.  "Chris wanted to take bets on how long it would take Yuuri to get naked, but I wouldn't let him."

"How chivalrous of you," Yuuri deadpanned.

"I'm a man who protects the honor of his fiancé."

Phichit snorted.  He was already snapping photos.

"You just want him all for yourself."

"Who could blame me?"

"Can you two please stop talking about this now?" Yuuri snapped.  He wriggled out of Victor's grip, his face on fire, and went to the closest full glass of champagne he could find.  He could sense Victor following him.

"Are you mad at me?" Victor asked as Yuuri picked up a glass.  Yuuri paused in bringing it to his lips, and looked at Victor out of the corner of his eye.

"No," he said honestly.  "I'm...I'm not sure what I'm feeling towards you right now."

Victor frowned.  He scrutinized Yuuri's expression for a moment before he spoke.

"Is it a good feeling?"

"I don't know yet."

"Is it a bad one?"

"No."

"Have you felt it before?"

"Not like this."

Yuuri's eyes dropped to Victor's mouth.  When they climbed back to his eyes, he found dawning realization in Victor's gaze.  It made him feel exposed.  He didn’t want anyone else to see them like this.  What was happening between them needed to be private, only for them. He wished Phichit hadn’t posted that picture, and prayed he wasn’t taking another.

“I—I want…” Yuuri began.

“Tell me.  ”

"I want to leave," he forced out.  "With you.  Now.  I want to be alone with you."

"Yes,” Victor breathed.  His tongue swept across his bottom lip.  “I think we've waited long enough."

Yuuri didn't ask what Victor thought they'd been waiting for.  He simply let Victor takes his hand and lead him through the crowd.  If people spoke to him, he didn't hear them.  All of his focus was married to Victor, to the way he moved with certainty and decision.  Chris may have whistled something inappropriate as they passed, but Yuuri made a conscious choice to ignore it.

Yuuri was grateful that the banquet hall was in their hotel.  He didn't think he could wait through a long walk or cab ride for whatever was about to happen.

The elevator closed before them, and they were enclosed in silence.  Alone, for the first time in hours.

Yuuri stole a glance at Victor and found him staring back.

Time seemed to suspend.  Yuuri sensed what was to come like a sweet smell in the air.  Victor was looking at him like he could see inside him, like he knew who Yuuri was when no one else did, or ever could.

They surged together.

Victor's tongue was in his mouth, his breath in Yuuri's lungs.  Yuuri's fingers clawed at his suit in a desperate attempt to draw them closer.  His back hit the wall of the elevator, and Victor arched into him.  

They'd never touched each other in this way before.  Sure, they'd made out until Yuuri's lips stung and his pants were tight, but it never had such a driving, consuming urgency.  This was a kiss that strove to a conclusion.  It needed release to end.  There could be no gradual petering out, no descent into sleep, or unacknowledged parting in which Victor fled to the bathroom to finish what Yuuri could not.

By the time the elevator dinged, Yuuri was hot and panting.  His skin felt too tight.  It took all the remaining restraint he had to stop kissing Victor.

Grabbing his elbow, Victor tugged him out into the hall, striding with his long legs.  Yuuri could barely keep up.  His feet didn't seem to work right, and he stumbled several times.  Maybe he'd had a little too much champagne, or maybe it was something else.  Victor just kept pulling him.

Yuuri was pleased when Victor fumbled with the key card for their room, comforted that he wasn’t the only one flustered.  Still, Victor didn't take long, and Yuuri soon found himself shoved through the doorway.

He felt lost for the brief time that Victor wasn't touching him.  Then Victor clutched him like he couldn't stand being parted from him, like he was parched.  With a moan at the realigning of their lips, Yuuri melted against him.  He held Victor’s neck in his palms.

Yuuri’s mind felt disconnected from his body.  The fetters of anxiety that usually held him back were cut during his skate with Victor, and hadn’t yet tangled around him again.  He knew they were coming, but he chose not to think too much about them.  Victor’s insistent mouth wouldn’t let him anyway.

Spinning him, Victor pushed Yuuri into the wall and knocked the breath from his lungs. Their hips grinded together.  Yuuri felt his body responding.  A tingling warmth crawled over him, pooling in his groin.  

"Victor," he gasped.  "I'm--it's so--"

"You're so good, so sexy," Victor panted between kisses.  "I want you.  Never wanted anything more in my life."

“Me too.”

“May I touch you?”

Victor’s hand dragged down Yuuri’s side to his hip.  His thumb dug into the crease where his leg met his body, erasing any doubt of where he meant.  Yuuri twitched in his pants.

Yuuri knew that he would come up with a million non-reasons for why Victor shouldn’t touch him if he let himself, most of them relating to how inexperienced and disappointing Yuuri would be.  Part of him still believed that Victor’s interest in him had to be a fluke, that he’d leave as soon as he woke up and realize his mistake. 

But Victor was kissing his neck exactly how he liked it, was adding a hint of teeth that made him tingle down to his toes.  He didn’t want to be that person, the one who was too afraid to try.  At least not tonight.

“Yes,” he said, before he could stop himself.  “Touch me.”

A huff of breath puffed against his neck.  Victor shuddered against him with a small noise.

As Victor trailed a line of kisses from Yuuri’s pulse point to his jaw, his fingers found the fastening of Yuuri’s trousers.  He popped it open just as their lips met.  Slipping his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth, he eased down the zipper.  The sound was loud in the quiet room, broken only by the erratic hush of their breaths.

Yuuri jerked when Victor palmed him.  He hit his head back against the wall. 

“You’re already so hard for me,” Victor murmured into his mouth.  Cheeks burning, Yuuri tried to turn away and close his eyes, but Victor wouldn’t let him.  “None of that,” he said, tilting his head back with a finger on his chin.  His eyes were open, or at least more open than he’d ever allowed in front of Yuuri.  “Let me see you.  I won’t know what feels good if I can’t see you.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Yuuri said, then winced at his own stupidity.  Of course Victor knew he hadn’t.  It must have been obvious.  He fisted Victor’s shirt and fought not to pull away.

Victor kneaded his palm in a slow circle, snapping Yuuri’s focus back and making pleasure unfurl inside him.

“That’s why I want to do it right,” Victor said.  “Do you trust me?”

“Yes," Yuuri said without hesitation.

“Good.”

With deft fingers Victor pulled him through the slit in his briefs before he had time to breathe.  He held him a firm grip, not moving, but letting him adjust.  Yuuri was embarrassed by how badly he was trembling.  Victor had barely even done anything yet, and Yuuri felt like he was overflowing, like his blood was singeing through him. 

“I’m going to stroke you now,” Victor said, speaking in his coach’s voice.  Yuuri was startled by how strongly it affected him.  “If it’s too hard or you're uncomfortable you are going to tell me.  Do you understand?”

Yuuri could only nod.

“Good boy.”

The praise hit Yuuri hard, made his knees melt, but then Victor started pulling at him and Yuuri forgot all about words. 

Victor was as purposeful and skilled in this as he was in everything else that he set his mind to.   He was consistent and gentle, but added little twists or grazes of the pad of this thumb that Yuuri couldn’t seem to anticipate. 

Yuuri gave his moans into Victor’s lips.  He scraped his nails up Victor’s back, trying to pull him closer.  When Victor angled to the side and pressed his groin to Yuuri’s hip, Yuuri felt the proof of his arousal too.  Part of him wanted to reciprocate, to pull Victor out so that they were doing this together, but he didn’t have the courage.

Victor didn’t seem to care.  He rolled against Yuuri in time with the tug of his wrist.  Their breaths were coming in short pulls, and Victor’s face was almost as flushed as his own.  A sensation was building inside Yuuri, of heat and prickling pleasure unlike anything he’d felt before.  Victor’s hand was nothing like his own, and the arousal that had been building between them since the pair skate added a frantic edge to everything.

“Victor,” Yuuri slurred against his lips.  “I need to…I’m going to—”

“Me too.  Come on.  I want to see what you look like when you come.  Let me be the first.”

Yuuri heard a whine sneak from his throat.  He rubbed his face against Victor’s, delirious with the feeling washing over him.  He felt separated from reality, from what was happening.  It was too intense to be true.

Then, his pleasure hit, and everything was shockingly, unavoidably real.  He spilled over Victor’s hand, knees buckling and legs shaking.  Victor supported him through it, drinking up his expression with wide, black eyes.  With one last push against his hip, Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder and shuddered.  Yuuri wished he’d been allowed to see his expression.

For a long, suspended moment they caught their breath, clinging to each other and leaning against the wall.

“That was not what I was expecting,” Victor said.

Yuuri froze.

“Oh.”

It was shocking how quickly the bliss left him, how his warmth went cold and Victor’s taste turned to ash in his mouth.  With rigid fingers, he pried Victor off him and stumbled away.  Victor collapsed against the wall, and turned to look at him with a furrow in his brow.

“Yuuri?”

“I need to take a shower.”  Yuuri backed away, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“But you just had one.  Don’t you want to come get in bed with—”

“No, I’m fine.”

Glancing up once, Yuuri caught the hurt in Victor’s eyes and couldn’t stand it.  He fled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.  Sinking to the floor, he gripped his hair and stared down at his lap.  Embarrassingly, his pants were still undone, his briefs askew and concealing little.

He couldn’t say how long he spent in the bathroom, shaking on the tiles until he found the strength to shower.  He felt gutted, like he’d spent every bit of strength he had.  What had he been thinking?  He’d just battled through the most stressful skating event of his life.  How could he have tried to push past his comfort zone with Victor right after that?  It was stupid.

He wondered what Victor had been expecting, and what exactly Yuuri had done wrong.  Perhaps it was that he hadn’t reciprocated at all, that Victor was forced to grind against his hip because Yuuri was too scared to touch him. 

Yuuri didn't know what was wrong with him.  Other people seemed to have sex so easily, and here he was, fighting through a panic attack after nothing but a hand job.  They hadn't even been naked.

Still, despite everything, by the time Yuuri was done showering he found that he didn’t regret what they had done.  Even if Yuuri had been disappointing, he was relieved to have finally gone through with it.  He supposed he was never going to be worse than his first time.  He had nowhere to go but up.

And besides, Victor had finished, even if it wasn’t at Yuuri’s hand.  It had to have been better than jerking off in the bathroom alone.

When he finally found the courage to come back into the room, he found Victor sitting cross-legged on his bed, tapping away at his phone.  He had changed into sweatpants and a black t-shirt.  He looked over when Yuuri came to stand beside him with his towel around his waist.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, anything.  An apology, or perhaps an explanation of why he fled so suddenly, but Victor spoke before he could.

“Looks like Chris brought his stripper pole again,” Victor said with a shallow smile, holding up his phone.  It took Yuuri a moment to look at it.  This was not what he was expecting Victor to say.  “Good thing we got out of there when we did, for your sake.  Chris would have done anything to get you back up there.”

“Oh.  Yeah.”

“Why don’t you get changed and get into bed.  You’ve had a long weekend.”  Victor pushed to his feet and pocketed his phone.

“Are you…are you not going to bed too?”

“Chris invited me to have a drink in his room, so I think I’ll do that.”

Yuuri’s face fell.

“Oh.”

Victor took a step towards him.  With a gentle finger, he tilted Yuuri’s head up until Yuuri looked at him.  “Is that okay?” he asked.  His eyes darted back and forth between Yuuri’s, as if waiting for him to lie.  "I'll happily stay here.  If you want me, I mean."

In truth, Yuuri didn’t want Victor to go.  He felt vulnerable and clingy, raw after what they had done, but he was too embarrassed to admit it.  With a breath, he schooled his features into neutrality.

“No, you should go.  But don’t stay up too late.  We have to leave early tomorrow,” he said, as casually as possible.

“Ah, yes.  To Hasetsu.  That reminds me, before I go there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Yuuri’s stomach twisted.

“What is it?”

“After I get my things from your house, I'm going to move back to St. Petersburg to train.  I need Yakov if I have any hope of making a comeback while also being your coach.”

Yuuri felt like the floor had broken beneath him, like the seams holding him together had ripped.

“You’re moving back to Russia.”  He said it out loud to confirm that it was true.  Victor was leaving him.  The moment had finally come, and it was all because Yuuri had failed in the most intimate way.  He felt like he was going to throw up.

“I have to.  You’re the one who wanted me to make a comeback.”

Yuuri blinked.  He let his eyes un-focus without his glasses, drawing him away from reality.  He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Yuuri?  Are you alright?”  Victor’s fingers found his cheek and Yuuri flinched away from the touch.  It was too much to stand, a reminder of what he was about to lose.  Victor put his hands up, placating.  “Wait, you have to let me finish.”

“You don’t want to live with me anymore.  I get it.”  Yuuri started to turn away.   He had to hide his feelings, had to protect himself and close off.  It was the only way he’d survive this.

“Hey, hold on a second,” Victor said, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back around.  He retracted his touch when Yuuri stared down at his hand like it was hurting him.  “Don’t…I’m not…will you just hear me out?  I’m trying to ask you to move in with me, not break up with you.  We just got engaged, how could you think I would--”

“You what?” Yuuri breathed. 

Victor’s shoulders sagged.

“I’m asking if you want to move to St. Petersburg with me.  I know it’s a lot, and you don’t know the city, but I have room for you in my flat and it’s not like you won’t know anybody.  Yurio will be there, at least, and we can practice together and I can show you where I’m from and—”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, too loud.

Victor’s babbling trailed off.  His eyes snapped up, finding Yuuri’s.  They were wide with disbelief, sparkling.

“Really?”

“I would love to.”

Victor sucked in a slow breath, and Yuuri watched the happiness return to his face.  Slowly, he reached out and cupped Yuuri’s hips, tipping forward to press their cheeks together.

“You won’t regret it,” he whispered.  “I promise.  I’m going to be so good to you.”

Yuuri swallowed, letting himself breathe in the wake of fear.  He thought of the future, of a new city and sharing Victor’s home.  It scared him, yes, but more than anything he was profoundly relieved.  They were moving forward, taking steps, even if it meant stumbling.

“I know,” he said, and meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next is a bit I've really been looking forward to writing. It might end up being in two parts, but we're gonna see the ridiculous and embarrassing (*cough* for Victor) circumstances that lead to Victor's first time bottoming for Yuuri on their honeymoon. I am excite and I hope you are too!
> 
> I love you like Otabek loves Yurio's PURE EXTRANESS IN HIS EXHIBITION SKATE GOOD LORD ON HIGH LET ME LIVE.


	20. Appendix Part One: Bonus Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some messages asking for Yuuri and Victor to address their miscommunication in the last chapter so I caved and wrote a short resolution for it. Does this maybe make up for all those horrible cliff-hangers? Just a smidge?
> 
> For the record, this takes place sometime after the events of Ch. 18 but before their wedding/honeymoon.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Yuuri announced, not looking up from his pan of sizzling vegetables. 

A faint smile tugged at his lips that he couldn’t seem to hold back.  His cheeks were warm, his body loose and relaxed after what Victor had just done to him.  A tingle crept down his spine at the memory of his hot mouth and obscene murmurs against Yuuri’s thighs.

Risking a glance at Victor, Yuuri found him staring.  He was sitting at the kitchen table with his head propped in his hand, his eyes hooded and features soft with drowsy fondness as he watched Yuuri cook.  His lips were puffy and pink. 

Yuuri snapped his focus back to his stir fry before he burned it.

“You are incredible, do you know that?” Victor said.

“I…I don’t—”

“It’s true.  The only thing you’re better at than cooking is sex.”

Yuuri huffed, feigning irritation to hide how flustered Victor was making him.

“What about skating?”

“That ranks third.”

“Maybe I picked the wrong profession, then.  I should have been a chef.”

“Are chefs usually good at sex?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t exactly pick a career where that skill is a prerequisite.”

“You could, but then I’d have to hire you full-time.”

“Oh really?”

“I’d write up an exclusivity contract and everything.”

Yuuri shook his head, flushing as the fantasy sprouted in his mind.  Ignoring the heated direction his thoughts were taking, he put his spatula aside to check on the rice.  Steam billowed from the pot when he took off the lid, fogging up his glasses.  He fluffed the rice with a fork and took a bite.  It was good, though he silently vowed to buy a proper rice cooker the next time they were out.

“At least I’m better at sex now than I was the first time we hooked up, not that that’s difficult,” he mumbled to himself.

Yuuri took the skillet off the burner before setting up their plates and pulling a small bottle of sake out of the fridge.  It was a moment before he realized Victor hadn’t responded.  When he looked back at him, he found him frowning, the corner of his mouth turned down.

“What do you mean?” he said.

Yuuri blinked, trying to remember the thread of conversation.

“Just that I didn’t know what I was doing that night in the hotel after the banquet.  I know it was disappointing,” he said, unable to fight a flicker of old embarrassment. 

“What gave you that impression?”

“You did,” Yuuri said, confused.  He startled when Victor’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in horror.  “N-not that I blame you,” Yuuri hastened to add.  “I couldn’t even bring myself to touch you back then.  No wonder it was bad for you.”

Victor shoved to his feet, making his chair skid across the flood behind him.

“What did I say that made you think that?” he asked, voice quaking.  Yuuri took a step back at the frantic edge in his eyes.

“You…you said it wasn’t what you expected.”

“And?”

“That was it.”

Victor’s hands flew to each side of his head, clenching in his silver hair.

“ _What?_ ”

Yuuri opened his mouth a few times, utterly lost.  He didn’t understand why Victor was reacting this way.

“It’s not a big deal.  You probably thought I'd be better than I was because of the whole Eros thing.”  Yuuri breathed a weak laugh.  “But I’ve had plenty of practice now and I don’t care about it anymore—”

“You must have gone in the bathroom and had a panic attack,” Victor gasped, face contorting.  Yuuri winced.

“Just a little one.”

Victor slapped his palm over his forehead, shaking his head.  Yuuri swore he could actually see his thoughts spiraling out of control.

“Yuuri,” Victor said after a moment.  His hand fell away as he strode around the kitchen island to him.  Yuuri managed to not flinch back.  “The reason I said it wasn’t what I expected was that it was the most mind-shattering sex I’d ever had.  I mean, you made me come in my pants, Yuuri.”

“Yeah, but--”

“In fact, I thought you pulled away because of how I’d embarrassed myself.  You always joke about my,” Victor swallowed, “ _stamina_.  Isn’t it because of that night?”

“No, I---well, I hadn’t thought of it that way.  I just like teasing you.  Plus, you know I get off on how quickly you--”

“How could you possibly think, after everything, that I would _ever_ not enjoy having sex with you?”

Yuuri glared at him, his irritation spiking.  He put his hands on his bare hips beneath his apron.

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of context, Victor.”

“Well now you have plenty of context.  You have all the context.”

Yuuri sighed and looked up to the ceiling.

“Our dinner is going to get cold.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said.  He stepped closer, his hands sliding around the sides of Yuuri’s neck.  Reluctantly, Yuuri met his eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

With the pad of his thumb Victor smoothed away the crease between Yuuri’s brows. 

“I’m better at saying what I mean now, though, right?” Victor murmured.  He pressed a faint kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

“Yes.  And I’m better at not taking everything you say in the worst way.  If I had just asked you what you meant that night instead of running away it would have been fine.”

Victor hummed against his jaw, smearing a line of kisses to his pulse point.

“If you had,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear, “I would have told you how perfect you were.  How just the sight of you in pleasure pushed me over the edge.”  His fingers scratched up Yuuri’s bare sides, making him shiver and curl his fingers into Victor’s shirt to steady himself.  “I would have told you how I thought about that night every day that we were apart, how I touched myself thinking of your eyes when you came.”

“Victor,” Yuuri said.  He nuzzled into Victor’s hair and breathed him in, twitching in his briefs despite being spent.  Victor found the tie at his rear and undid it, exposing the whole of his back.  With a shudder, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s elbows to stop him.  “We have to eat.”

After a pause, Victor grumbled and his arms fell away.  He took a step back and their eyes met.  Victor looked like he was debating whether or not to say something, his mouth opening and closing several times.

“Just so you know,” he finally said.  “Chris can confirm what I said.  He was only letting me come over for a drink that night so I could whine about how I’d screwed up at having sex with you.”

A small smile spread across Yuuri’s lips.

“I don’t need to ask him.  Now come on; let’s eat.”

Once they were settled at the table with their plates, Victor took an enormous bite of his stir fry.  He moaned obscenely, eyes rolling back with bliss.  Yuuri stared at him with his chopsticks half-way to his lips, watching how Victor’s throat bobbed when he swallowed.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred, leaning close to him with his elbow on this table.  Yuuri waited for the usual deluge of praise for his cooking, for declarations of how it was the best thing Victor had ever eaten and some kind of sexual innuendo.  Instead, Victor said:

“It’s not what I expected.”

Yuuri kicked him under the table.  Victor giggled so hard he choked on a snap pea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so next I will definitely be doing the honeymoon bit, I swear. I have it outlined and everything.
> 
> I love you readers/kudosers/commenters like Victor loves Yuuri's cooking. Thank you so, so, so much for your wonderful words!


	21. Appendix Part Two: Chapter 1, Honeymoon Phase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Uggh everything sucks right now, can I not get one damn piece of good news??
> 
> Kubo-sensei: Chihoko

“I’m supposed to be addressing wedding invitations,” Yuuri grumbled between kisses.  He gave Victor’s hair a tug, drawing his head back to bare the shivering column of his throat.  He pressed his mouth to it and felt Victor’s response rumble against his lips.

“This is way more fun.”

“But way less productive.”

“That’s a matter of perspective.”

With a huff, Yuuri pressed a thigh against Victor’s groin.   Victor adjusted to wrap his legs around Yuuri’s waist.  He arched up, making them both moan.

“I like having you on top like this,” Victor murmured into Yuuri’s hair. 

“I think you’re just lazy.” 

“I mean it,” Victor said as Yuuri smeared a line of kisses across his cheek.  “Is that something you’d be interested in?  I know I’ve offered before, but—”

“ _’That’_?”  Yuuri tried to bite back a smirk.  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“Being inside me.”

Apparently Victor wasn’t as bashful as Yuuri would have been asking for sex.  Still, Yuuri couldn’t fight the pulse of desire.  He took Victor’s wrists and pinned them above his head on the armrest of the couch.  He watched in satisfaction as Victor’s throat bobbed and his pupils dilated.

“I would need you to show me what to do,” Yuuri confessed.

“I doubt that.”

Victor tested Yuuri’s hold on him, pushing back, and Yuuri punished him with a short jerk and a roll of his hips.  Victor groaned, eyes lighting as if that was exactly what he wanted.

“See.  You’re so good for me.”

Yuuri ignored the praise.  He never did know how to respond to it.

“I like having you under me too,” he whispered instead.

“Yeah?  Do you like being in control?  Do you like deciding my pleasure for me?”

“N-not all the time.  But yes, right now I…yes.”  Yuuri swallowed, letting himself bask in Victor’s complete focus, his vulnerability.  “Are we really doing this?” he whispered.

“Do you want to?”

Yuuri took a moment to genuinely consider.  There had never been a kind of sex that Yuuri didn’t enjoy with Victor, but while he didn’t think this would be any different, he was still nervous.  He trusted Victor to set him up to succeed, no matter what, yet he couldn’t seem to voice how badly he wanted him, how the idea of claiming him was as intoxicating as it was terrifying.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, because it was easier and Victor would understand him anyway.

“What a coincidence.  I happen to want you to kiss me.  Always.  Every second of every day, in any way you’d like, forever.”

“We’d never get anything done.”

“Again…matter of perspective.”

With a shake of his head, Yuuri took Victor’s mouth.  He licked into it until they were both panting.  Harnessing his courage, Yuuri grabbed the backs of Victor’s knees and folded his legs to his chest.

“Yuuri,” Victor gasped, breaking the kiss.

“Is this what you want?” Yuuri murmured.  He nipped at Victor’s neck, down to his collarbone and the dip at the base of his throat.  He rubbed against him in some simulation of sex.  “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Yuuri’s cheeks burned, the swear word prickling on his tongue, but he let Victor’s full-body shiver drive him.  Releasing one of Victor’s legs, he wedged his hand between Victor’s rear and the couch, clutching the band of his sweats and briefs.  Dragging them down, he revealed Victor’s bare ass inch by inch.

“Wait,” Victor choked, and Yuuri stopped immediately.  His eyes snapped to Victor’s face.  “I have an idea.”

Yuuri studied the look of him.  His face was red, his lips glossy and parted, and his fingers were clenched white in Yuuri’s shirt.  He didn’t look scared or uncomfortable, so Yuuri relaxed a little.

“Go on,” he prompted.                                                                                                      

“H-how would you feel if we waited?”

Yuuri blinked.

“Waited?”

“Until our wedding night.  To make it special.”

Yuuri took a moment to process.  Of all the things he’d expected Victor to say this was not one of them.  While he collected his thoughts, he tugged Victor’s pants back into place, then braced his forearms on either side of Victor’s head on the armrest.

“It would be special regardless of when we do it,” Yuuri said slowly.

“I know that, but it’s my first time.”

Yuuri arched an eyebrow.

“I mean it’s my first time doing it with someone I love.”

“We ‘do it’ all the time.”

“Not like that,” Victor said, his brow furrowing.  Yuuri felt a slight pulse of satisfaction at getting him frustrated.  In truth, he didn’t really care when they took that step.  In fact he’d be fine if they never did, but sometimes he enjoyed winding Victor up.

“The first time you let me take you, it was…well, you remember what it was like,” Victor said.

Yuuri suppressed a smile.  He wondered if he’d ever be able to think about that day without blushing.

“Yes.”

“I know that it will never be quite like that again, but wouldn’t it be fun to save something for our wedding night?  I bet it would feel more intense.”

“Is our sex not intense enough for you now?”

Victor rushed to answer, eyes going wide and frantic.

“Of course it is.  It’s the most—“ Victor began, trailing off when he caught Yuuri’s smirk.  He pouted at him.  “You’re teasing me.”

“Only a little.”

“This is serious,” Victor said, his expression anything but.  “I’m talking about my dowry, here.”

Yuuri snorted.

“Your _dowry?_ ”

“You know what I mean.  Come on, Yuuri, it’ll be fun to wait.  I’ll be like a blushing virgin by the time we do it.”

Yuuri sucked in a slow breath, shaking his head.  The idea of Victor acting like an innocent, coy maiden seemed laughable, but then Yuuri remembered how he had trembled after the European Championship, how he had been nervous and careful like he’d never been with anyone before.

“Fine.”

Victor beamed.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?”

Victor trailed a finger across the arch of Yuuri’s cheek, down to the camber of his lip.  His eyes were reverent, amused.  Yuuri kissed his fingertip as it passed.

“I’ve given up trying to predict you.”

“That’s probably for the best.”  Yuuri raked his fingers down Victor’s side, watching the way his pupils contracted. 

“So it’s a deal?” Victor said, breathy.

“It’s fine with me, but I wonder if _you_ can wait.”

“I am a master of restraint!”

“Sure you are.”

In one swift move, Yuuri slid down Victor’s body and yanked off his pants and underwear.  Victor barely had time to gasp, “Wow” before Yuuri sucked him down. 

 

 

When Yuuri heard heavy, stumbling footsteps coming up the stairs, he shook out his hands and tried to breathe.  Though he’d downed most of a bottle of champagne, he was still nervous. 

Chris had been only too eager to help when Yuuri had revealed his plans for Victor’s bachelor party, or rather private _after_ party.  Yuuri knew he’d follow his instructions to the letter, but that didn’t mean something couldn’t go wrong.  His anxiety had no trouble conjuring every worst case scenario.

“Yuuri is going to wonder why I’m back early,” Victor’s muffled voice said out in the hall.  “Do you think he has a crush on me?”

“He’s your fiancé…”

“Wow.  How did I pull that off?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you know he can _cook?_   He’s the most beautiful, talented, sexy--hey, what are you doing?”

“Blindfolding you,” Yuuri heard Chris say.

“Why would you do that?”

“You’ll thank me later.”

Yuuri clutched his robe tighter around himself as Chris opened the front door and guided a clearly intoxicated Victor inside.  Chris shot Yuuri a wink before shoving Victor forward and leaving, the door slamming behind him.

Victor staggered, nearly falling, and Yuuri had to resist the urge to steady him.

“Yuuri?” he said.  “You home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you alright?  You sound hoarse.  Are you getting sick?”  Victor shuffled towards him, reaching out blindly.  He looked unreasonably adorable with a bandanna around his head, covering his eyes and pushing up his hair.

“I’m fine.  I need you to sit on the couch.”

“I can’t see.  And I’m wasted,” Victor said helpfully.  Yuuri sighed, wondering how he ever thought Victor could navigate through their living room, drunk, without seeing it.  Reluctantly, he went to Victor and curled a hand around his elbow.  He barely managed to dodge Victor’s grasp when he tried to reel him in.  “What’s the matter?  Why won’t you let me touch you?  I just want to make out with my fiancé.  I’ve had a lot of vodka.”

“I can see that.”

“There were strippers but I didn’t touch any of them.  I only wanted you the whole time.  You can even ask Chris.  He was mad at me until he realized that meant more lap dances for him.”

“Sounds like Chris,” Yuuri said as he guided Victor to the couch and pushed him down onto the cushions.  Victor sprawled back languidly, his knees spread and arms resting on the back.

“Are you blindfolding me because I get a present?  Because I don’t need anything, you know.  Unless the present is you.  I missed you all night.” 

Somehow Yuuri forgot how chatty Victor was when he drank.  Still, it took the edge off his nervousness.  He took a deep breath.

“Take the blindfold off,” he ordered, clasping the edges of the robe.  With clumsy fingers, Victor did as he was told. 

He blinked up at Yuuri, squinting as he adjusted the light.  Yuuri watched the slow recognition trickle over his features.  His eyes traveled down the sliver of skin revealed at Yuuri’s chest, before darting up to his face, widening at the eyeliner and slicked-back hair.  Then Victor noticed the stripper pole behind Yuuri, and he gasped like a child on Christmas morning.

“No way,” he said, eyes sparkling.  “Really??”

“Really.”

“Holy _shit_.”

“Chris was supposed to give you money.”

Without taking his eyes off Yuuri’s face, Victor fumbled with his suit jacket, pulling a wad of rubles from the inner pocket.

“Good,” Yuuri said.  “You are to stay seated.  You aren’t allowed to touch me unless I say so.”

Victor’s throat bobbed.  He nodded.

Stiffly, Yuuri went to the end table that held his champagne and a bluetooth speaker.  He took one last long swig from the bottle before pressing play on his phone.

The first notes of the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHxolQdMmOU) pulsed into the air as he went to stand in front of Victor, and started to dance.

At first he just swirled his hips in slow circles, tracing his fingers down his chest.  He held Victor’s eyes, letting the sheer awe in them guide him.  Victor was beautifully flushed, his hair messy from the blindfold.  His lips were parted and slick, and he gave Yuuri his intense, devoted focus.

Slow, Yuuri slipped the robe from his shoulders, letting it caress his skin as it fell away.  He threw it aside. 

Victor stopped breathing when he saw what Yuuri was wearing underneath.

It had taken a fair amount of courage and ingenuity for Yuuri to put on the intricate ensemble after Victor had left for his party.  There were straps that echoed bondage across his chest, scant briefs that barely covered him, and stockings clipped in place by a garter belt.  It was all black and lacey and he had spent way more money on it than was probably responsible. 

Still, when he looked at himself in the mirror after he had done his hair and drawn on the eyeliner, he couldn’t help but feel sexy and powerful.  It was like a costume, and it allowed him to channel the character that could entice men and cast them aside on a whim.

“W-where the hell did you get that,” Victor stammered. 

“It’s called the internet,” Yuuri said.  “Now stop talking.”

As Yuuri sank down, rhythmically, to a squat, Victor’s mouth clicked shut.  Yuuri spread his own knees, trailing his fingers up his inner thighs.  His skin was sensitive under the thin stockings, and he let himself feel it, biting his lip.  Spinning around, he put his back to Victor and steadily rose up, sticking out his ass and slanting it side to side. 

“Wow,” he heard Victor murmur, as if by accident.  To reward him, Yuuri stepped back until his rear was just touching Victor’s lap.  He grinded down, bracing his hands on Victor’s thighs. 

“Are you going to pay me, or what?” he said over his shoulder.  He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.  The champagne was tingling warm in his veins, making him feel strong, sensual.  Expensive.  “This isn’t free.”

“O-oh.”

Victor’s hand was shaking as he tucked a bill into the band of Yuuri’s stocking.  Yuuri plucked another from his fingers and slipped it into the front of his underwear, arching so Victor could watch.  He tipped his head back to Victor’s shoulder, gripping his nape and kneading his rear against Victor’s groin.  Shuddering, Victor kissed his temple and folded several notes under his garter.

Yuuri had never felt more desirable in his life.  Though it was more like playing a part than being himself, he found that he loved the game.  Victor was his; his pleasure was Yuuri’s to decide, and he was going to pay for it.  Victor always did enjoy the finer things, and Yuuri basked in the idea of being one of them.

No, more than that.  He was the most expensive luxury Victor would ever possess.

Yuuri winked at Victor when he made himself pull away and strut to the pole.  He grabbed it and wrapped his leg around it, lifting off the floor in a spin.

He hadn’t pole danced in years, at least as far as he remembered, so he didn’t want to do anything too complicated.  The pole wasn’t as sturdy as those he’d used in the classes he took in college, though it had seemed stable enough when he practiced while Victor was out. 

He decided to keep it simple.  Victor would be easy to impress anyway.

After a few rotations, Yuuri moved through several different styles of spins.  Though he was rusty, figure skating afforded him the strength he needed to be graceful and lithe.  He held the pole like a lover, let it caress and stimulate him as he danced.

After a few of his fancier tricks, he flipped upside down and sunk gently to the ground.  On his back, he found Victor’s eyes.  Licking his lip, he spread his legs into a side split in the air.  He slid a few fingers into his mouth and teased his other hand down his chest.  Victor’s eyes sparked.  Yuuri palmed himself through the scant fabric, smirking around his fingers when Victor jerked on the couch.  Planting his feet, Yuuri tilted his hips up and circled them in time with his hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Victor whispered.  He shifted on the couch and adjusted the front of his pants.  “Look at you.”

Yuuri closed his legs and flipped onto his front.  Ass in the air, he crawled towards Victor with his eyes hooded and hungry.  He skimmed his hands up Victor’s legs, rising to his knees, and licked his lip when he saw the bulge in Victor’s trousers.

“Enjoying yourself?” Yuuri asked, eyes flickering from Victor’s face to his crotch.  He scratched his fingers up to Victor’s hips, taunting.  Victor’s fists were white at his sides.

“I am the luckiest man in the universe,” he said.

With a hum of agreement, Yuuri slinked up onto the couch and straddled him.  He swiveled his hips, rubbing them together.  Victor’s head tipped back.  Yuuri could tell he was fighting the compulsion to grab him but was obeying Yuuri’s rule.  His restraint was impressive.  Yuuri wanted to reward him for it.

“You can touch my hips,” Yuuri said, tracing the tendon straining in Victor’s neck with a fingertip.  Victor didn’t hesitate, though he kept his grip undemanding.

“I think I made a mistake,” Victor grit after the music started to fade into silence.  Yuuri didn’t stop rolling his hips.

“Hmm?”

“I want you to fuck me.”  Yuuri froze.  He tilted back until he was sitting on Victor’s thighs.  “I want it so bad.”

“You’re the one who said we would wait until our wedding night,” he reminded him, threading his fingers into Victor’s hair and tugging.  Victor hissed, straining into his hold.

“I don’t think I can.  I have to have you.  The way you move….that thing you’re wearing…you’re driving me crazy.”

“We’ve both been drinking,” Yuuri reminded him, unable to ignore the slur in Victor’s words.  “And you said you wanted it to be special.”

“And you said it would be special no matter when we did it.”

Yuuri felt a spike of irritation.  It figured that Victor would be the first to cave on his own vow of abstinence.  The buzz of champagne and power was still strong inside Yuuri.  He was the one in control tonight and he wanted to prove it.

More than that, the only thing he liked as much as having sex with Victor was teasing him about it.

“Are you sure you could even last long enough for me to fuck you?” Yuuri purred, leveling Victor with a heated glare through his lashes.  He grazed his fingers down Victor’s chest to his belt, grinding against him.  Victor’s eyes fluttered.

“Of course I…I’m not—”

“I don’t think you could handle me like this.  You’re already desperate, aren’t you?”  Yuuri drew a line down Victor’s length through fabric with the tip of his finger.  Victor jolted under him.  “I bet I don’t even have to touch your skin to make you come.”

“No, I—I can—”

Yuuri cut him off by pressing down where Victor would be most sensitive.  Touching his mouth to Victor’s ear, he sucked the lobe between his lips as he dragged his knuckles back and forth.

“Are you leaking for me?  Did you ruin your pretty suit?” he breathed into his ear.  He nipped down to Victor’s pulse point, feeling the blood beat against his lips.

“ _Yuuri_.”

“You will.  I’m going to make you.  I want to see you come in your pants like a teenager, and you told me you’d always give me what I want.  Come on, Victor.  Be good for me.”

Victor’s fingers clenched at Yuuri’s hips.  His breath was rushed and tremulous.  Yuuri knew he was already close, he just needed one more push.

Yuuri met his gaze.  The blue in his eyes was almost completely covered by black.

“Show me how badly you want me to fuck you.  Show me how you belong to me, how no one else could ever satisfy you now that you’ve had me.  Show me how I’ve ruined you,” Yuuri murmured.  “Show me you love me.”

With a strangled noise, Victor twisted off the cushions just as Yuuri pressed down with his fingers, rubbing him hard.  Victor cried out and the fabric dampened under his touch.

“That’s it,” Yuuri said, praising him until the tremors had passed.  When Victor whined in overstimulation, Yuuri moved his hands to clasp Victor’s tie.

“You were right,” Victor said, lips catching on the words.  “I never would have lasted.”  He blinked once, sluggish.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet.”

“I won’t be able to hear that song again without getting hard,” Victor rasped, a little too loud. 

Yuuri smiled.

“I might have to use that against you.”

“Am I allowed to touch you now?”  Victor dug his thumbs into Yuuri’s hips.  His eyes fell to the swell in Yuuri’s lingerie.

“Yes.”

For as much as Yuuri teased Victor about his stamina, it took very little time for Victor to stroke him apart.  He knew how to pleasure him better than Yuuri knew himself, when to grip hard and went to touch him feather-light.  When Yuuri came, adding his own mess to Victor’s suit, he felt dizzy, unable to catch his breath.  For the briefest moment it frightened him, but then Victor’s hands were in his hair and across his back.  He tucked his face against Victor’s neck and clung to him like he might float away. 

His fallouts after sex were still a problem, but they were shorter and less potent than they used to be.  He didn’t know if it was because he trusted Victor more every day, or if his body was just getting used to constant sex, but he welcomed the change. 

He wondered how bad it would be on their wedding night, though.

“Thank you,” Victor said to him, drawing him out of his thoughts.  “It means a lot that you did that for me.”

“It was fun.”

“You’ll have to teach me some of those dance moves now that we have a pole.”

“Why do I have the feeling that would be dangerous?”

Victor didn’t answer, but his mischievous grin gave him away.

“Want to come take a shower with me?” he asked.

“Yeah, but…I might need help taking this thing off,” he said, gesturing to his ensemble.

“I would be more than happy to offer my assistance, but I should warn you; I am…very drunk.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes but didn’t bother hiding his smile.  

 

 

As Yuuri sank into the sweet slide of skin on skin, he wondered if this was the moment he finally gave in.

Ever since the bachelor party, Victor had apparently decided that breaking his vow of chastity was his new mission in life.

If Yuuri wasn’t a man of principle he would have forfeited their stupid game several times over, but he was too honorable, or too stubborn, to give in, even when Victor’s methods ranged from ridiculous to impressive, to downright irresponsible.

Yuuri never knew when Victor would try to seduce him, and he had started to get jittery.  He was only human, and Victor seemed to sense his moments of weakness like he had some kind of radar.

Or perhaps it was just obvious to him when Yuuri was horny.  Regardless, Yuuri’s resolve was hanging on by a thread.

The closest Victor had come to breaking him was the first time he tried, mostly because Yuuri had been caught by surprise.  Yuuri had returned from grocery shopping, only to find Victor naked and bent over the couch, fingering himself and moaning Yuuri’s name.  The only thing that had kept him from ripping off his pants and pouncing on Victor was the carton of eggs he dropped and splattered all over the floor.

He’d almost managed not to look at Victor while he cleaned it up, until Victor accidentally made himself come, and then whined at Yuuri for not joining him.  He had been resolutely ignored as punishment, until Yuuri got sick of his pouting and desperate apologies, and decided to be merciful.  Victor had clung to him on the couch that night as they watched a movie like he’d been neglected for years instead of a couple hours.

Foolishly, Yuuri had thought that offering himself dramatically would be Victor’s only tactic of seduction. 

He was wrong.

On his back, as Yuuri looked up into Victor’s piercing blue eyes, he felt himself surrendering.  He was hard, aching, and Victor was easing him between his cheeks.  Victor had apparently prepared himself in secret, and was slick and ready for him.  All Yuuri would have to do was cant his hips to sink inside. 

Words of praise and adoration were pouring from Victor’s lips, washing over Yuuri.  They calmed him, drugged him, made him want to give Victor everything. 

“Come on, baby.  You’re so lovely.  Don’t you want to come inside me?”

“I…I don’t…”

“I’d be so hot around you.  It’s just a silly vow anyway.  We know we’re going to do it, so why not do it now?”

“I guess maybe we could…maybe…”

“Yeah?  Just say ‘yes,’ Yuuri, and I’m yours.  I need to hear you say the word.”

“I—”

“Yeah?”  Victor teased the tip of him back and forth where he wanted it most, letting his desire and pleasure paint his features.  He was beautiful.

“I—”

“Say ‘yes’ for me.  I can’t do it if you don’t say ‘yes.””

“I…can’t.”

It took every ounce of resolve Yuuri had to tip Victor onto his back and angle his hips away.

“Did you forget that you’re the one who came up with this stupid promise,” Yuuri snapped, pinning Victor's wrists to the mattress.  He wasn’t quite able to be mad, though, not when Victor was rosy-cheeked and open, smiling up at him like he didn’t really mind that his scheme hadn’t worked.  “Why are you trying so hard to break it?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Yuuri groaned.

“You are insane.”

“But am I cute?  Amusing?  Sexy?”

“Annoying.”

“That’s not very nice, darling.  I just want my gorgeous sex god of a fiancé to make love to me.  Is that so bad?”

Yuuri bit his lip to keep from smiling and giving himself away.  Victor saw through him anyway.

"Guess not," he said.

“‘ _Blushing virgin’_ my ass,” Yuuri grumbled.

“Your ass is definitely not a virgin, Yuuri.  Mine, on the other hand…”

Yuuri glared down at him, unflinching, until an unexpected flicker of doubt passed over Victor’s face. 

“You do want to...right?” Victor whispered, the most unsure than Yuuri had heard him in a long time.  The game was put on pause.  “I’m not pressuring you into it or—“

“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all night, and that’s saying something.  Of course I want to.  I think about it all the damn time now.  I’m barely fending you off--don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he grit when a grin banished the doubt from Victor’s eyes.

“I can’t help it.”

“I’m serious.  If you want to wait until our wedding night then don't do this again.  I’m going to say ‘yes’ the next time you ask.”

“Okay,” Victor said, cupping Yuuri’s jaw and pressing the pad of his thumb to Yuuri’s lip.  “Let’s wait.”

“Okay.”

When Yuuri eventually mounted him, sliding Victor inside his body and taking his own selfish pleasure, he rode him until Victor was shaking, incoherent.  The sight gave Yuuri a familiar swell of power.

“Are you jealous, Victor?” Yuuri taunted, resuming the game and getting some payback.  “You’re so deep inside me, I can feel you everywhere.  Don’t you wish that I would take you like you’re taking me?”

Victor stuttered out something like Yuuri’s name.  Yuuri breathed his words into Victor’s mouth, never ceasing the roll of his hips.

“Show me how you want me to fuck you.”

It took a moment for his request to pierce through the haze of Victor’s addled mind, but when it did, Victor flipped them in one graceful move, claiming Yuuri’s mouth.  With slow, deep thrusts he coaxed Yuuri’s orgasm from him, only breaking their kiss to speak his love against Yuuri’s lips.

“I do love making love to you like this,” Victor said, thrusting into him languidly.  Yuuri could tell from his eyes that he was close.  Though he was sluggish in the wake of his release, Yuuri kept up with the rhythm Victor set, moving his hips just as he knew Victor preferred.  “I’d be happy if this was all we ever did.”

“I know.  Me too.”

“You’re so beautiful like this, so perfect.  I just want to see you feel good.  That’s all I ever want.”

Yuuri shushed him with a sloppy kiss, and swallowed Victor’s long groan when he shuddered and came inside him.

As the sweat cooled on their skin, Yuuri savored Victor’s weight on top of him, his scent heavy and sweet with sex.  He waited for the familiar drop to come, but as moments passed, he didn’t feel more than slight uneasiness.  In fact, for the most part he felt blissed out, comfortable.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, bracing up on his forearms and grinning down at him.  “You're not shaking.”

“Yeah, I know.  I think….I think I’m okay.”

Yuuri’s tentative relief was mirrored in Victor’s face.

“I’m happy to hear it.”

Yuuri sucked in a breath through his nose, letting it out slowly from his mouth.

“We should get to practice soon,” he said.

“We could… _or_ I could carry you into the shower and wash you and kiss you and tell you how much I love you.  We can go to practice after.”

Yuuri blushed, shaking his head at how inappropriately direct Victor could be at times.  He felt the familiar compulsion to tease him.

“So you’re saying I come first?” he said, schooling his features into neutrality.  Victor frowned.

“Of course.  You always come first.”

“Except when you come too early.”

It took a long moment for Victor to catch the insult.  Yuuri smirked as he watched slow realization bloom on his face.  He looked too impressed to be affronted, despite his best efforts.

“Savage, Katsuki.”

“To be fair, you had it coming.”

A pause.  Yuuri groaned when a light sparked in Victor’s eyes.

“I also had _you_ coming—”

“Stop.”

“You started it.”

“And I’m finishing it.”

“Now who’s finishing first?”

“I swear to god, Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo that was a steamy chapter. Way more than I planned eeeeee.
> 
> This Honeymoon side-story might end up taking a chapter more than I'd anticipated, since this first part ballooned way out of my control (typical), but I hope to post the next bit super soon.
> 
> I approached the awesome [saniika](http://saniika.tumblr.com/) for some help designing Yuuri's sexy pole dancing ensemble, and boy did she deliver! Here is her epic [fanart](http://saniika.tumblr.com/post/160191605159/mini-collab-with-rageofthenerd-for-their-extra-in) of Yuuri in his outfit!
> 
> I love you like Yuuri loves making fun of Victor's (totally non-existent) stamina issues.


	22. Appendix Part Two: Chapter 2, Honeymoon Phase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, loves. Here we finally are (after a long but much-needed delay from your dopey author here). The end of our fellowship. 
> 
> In this final (!!!) chapter, we see things not going according to plan, epic hangovers, the full activation of Eros mode, and the end of nerves (see what I did there?).
> 
> I love you like I love victuuri.

Yuuri stepped gracefully into their honeymoon suite.  He was the picture of stability, the physical embodiment of elegance and control and sobriety. 

Or at least he thought he was, right up until he veered like a drunken toddler into the wall.  The world dipped.  His shoulder slammed into drywall.  He might have been able to steady himself, but then Victor crashed into his back and sent them both to the floor in a heap of limbs and designer suits.

“I think we fell,” Yuuri slurred, blinking up at the blurry ceiling.  Victor snuggled close to him.  He rubbed his face into Yuuri’s neck.

“Yuuuuuuri.  We got married.”

Shaking his head and blinking, Yuuri tried to focus. 

“We should get up,” he said, and then made no effort to move. 

Victor got comfortable, burrowing against him like it was perfectly normal to be sprawled on their hotel room floor.  Maybe it was. 

Yuuri hadn’t realized how stressful weddings could be, especially with his anxiety.  If he hadn’t had Victor calming him at every turn, giving him what he needed to stay in control, he might have called the whole thing off for the sake of elopement.  Now, all the days of intricate planning and lack of sleep caught up to him.  He was exhausted in every possible way. 

He’d also had, like, a lot of champagne.

“It’s our wedding night,” Victor mumbled into his skin.

“Yup.”  Yuuri’s eyes slid closed.                                                                                         

“We have to have sex.  You’re supposed to deflower me.” 

“Mhmm.”

“Hey,” Victor said, pinching him in the side.  Yuuri flinched, his eyes fluttering open.  “We made a promise.”

With a sigh, Yuuri forced himself back into consciousness.  Groaning, he pushed up into a seated position, taking Victor’s clinging form with him.  He knew Victor was right.  They’d made a vow, and Yuuri was going to stick to it, damnit.  He was a man of his word.

“To the bed!” he exclaimed, sticking his fist in the air like a commander going into battle.

“To the bed!” Victor slurred back, smacking his hand into the wall.

In a truly impressive feat of athleticism, Yuuri staggered to his feet.  He dragged Victor up with him.

“Wait, you’re supposed to carry me over the threshold,” Victor said, grabbing Yuuri by the lapels and jostling him.  “It’s tradition.”

“Does that make you the bride?”

“Of course.”

“But I’m the one wearing white.”

“That’s a good point.”

Bending down, Victor wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s knees and heaved him into a bridal carry. 

It was immediately apparent that they’d made a mistake. 

As soon as Victor took a step he lurched forward.  Yuuri braced himself for a fall, but somehow Victor directed their trajectory to the bed.  In a few dangerous strides they tumbled onto it.  Knees and elbows collided with soft flesh.  The room spun and bounced, completely disorienting Yuuri.  He had a brief sober thought that it was good no one was filming them.

Somehow, with a lot of “oomph”s and giggling, Yuuri eventually got Victor under him.  He looked down at his husband’s flushed, drowsy features, the way his silver hair fanned out on the pillow, and felt a dizzying rush of complete awe.

“I can’t believe I got you to marry me,” he said.  Victor’s hands came up to grab his face, slapping him a bit in the process.

“We got _married_ , Yuuri.”

“We so did.”

“You’re my husband now.”

“I used to have posters of you in my bedroom, and now you’re my husband.”

“You used to jerk off to them!”

“I did!  All the time.”

“I used to fantasize about you after that time you danced with me and then never called me,” Victor whispered, eyes sparkling and wide.  “I told Makkachin I was going to marry you.”

“That’s awesome.”

“It’s so awesome.  Now I don’t have to fantasize anymore.  I get to have sex with my best friend all the time.”

“Me too!”

“This is so cool.  Can we have sex now?”

“Pssh, we can have sex whenever we want.  We’re _married_.”

“Wow.”

Through a process of trial and error, they managed to get their mouths together. 

At first, Yuuri kissed him with heat, but Victor’s lips were too soft, his taste too sweet and familiar.  The kiss turned lazy, until Yuuri couldn’t hold his weight up anymore.  He tipped onto his side and pulled Victor close.  Their lips met in lingering contact, drawing out longer with each press. 

“We should take off our suits,” Yuuri mumbled.  Their noses bumped together.

“That sounds so hard, though.”

“Don’t you want to have sex?”

Victor let out a long, drawn out whine and started fiddling with his buttons.

With zero coordination, Yuuri and Victor tugged off their suits and tossed them aside until they were down to nothing but underwear.  Victor sprawled on his stomach, canting his hips up in Yuuri’s direction.

Yuuri blinked down.

“Like them?” Victor asked around a smirk.

Victor was wearing his usual tight briefs, except they were white and right across the back it said “Mr. Katsuki” in pink cursive.

“Um.” 

“I got you a matching pair, except yours say ‘Mr. Nikiforov.’”

“But we didn’t take each other’s names.”

Victor huffed, his lip jutting out.

“It’s _symbolic_ ,” he said, looking like Yuuri had shattered his dreams and laughed about it.  “You were supposed to love them.”

“You’re right.  I’m sorry, they’re great.”

Victor beamed.

“Come here,” he said, and reached for Yuuri with grabby hands.

Yuuri scooted close to him on his side, wrapping and arm and leg around him.  Victor turned into him and their lips connected.  Though he made another noble effort at a lustful kiss, Yuuri was too comfortable to keep from melting.  The soft drag of Victor’s lips was deeply soothing.  The fluffy comforter and warm embrace was heaven after a long day on his feet.

They nudged against each other, but the arousal that usually built had turned to something else.  Yuuri felt like a child being rocked to sleep.  Victor’s taste and scent filled him, surrounded him.  He started to drift.

“I love you,” Victor mumbled, his lips catching on Yuuri’s, though Yuuri realized distantly that they were no longer kissing.  Their foreheads were pressed together on a shared pillow.  He felt Victor’s breath in his mouth.

“Then you should probably marry me,” Yuuri heard himself say.

“I already did.”

“Then divorce me so you can do it again.”

“Okay, I will in the morning.”

Yuuri smeared one last kiss somewhere around Victor’s chin.  Then he passed out.

 

 

Yuuri hadn’t opened his eyes when he discovered he was in for a world of pain.  Something had died in his mouth, his stomach was sour.  A burning ache pulsed in his temples.

“Owww,” he groaned when he finally pried open his eyes. 

“Shhh.”  Victor was on his back beside him, the heels of his palms pressed to his eye sockets.  “Everything hurts.”

The faint light coming from the window was excruciating.  Yuuri buried his face between Victor’s shoulder and the comforter to block it out.

“Are we dead?”

“Yes.”

“This is not how I wanted to kick off our marriage.”

Yuuri began to sift through the foggy events of the night before.  A spike of anxiety stabbed through him when he realized how little he remembered.

“Did we have sex last night?” he asked, jerking up to brace on his elbow and squint at Victor’s face.  He didn’t like feeling so out of control.

“No.  We didn’t.  We promised we would, and we didn’t.”  Yuuri had never seen Victor so petulant.

He took a shaky breath and swallowed, rallying himself.

“Do you want to have sex now?”

Victor shivered.  Slowly, he eased his hands away from his face and looked at Yuuri.  He had dark smudges under his eyes; his skin was pallid, his lips chapped.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” he said, “but I don’t want to have sex with you right now.”

“Oh, thank God,” Yuuri huffed, breath punching out as he fell back down to the pillow.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”  There was a hint of forced amusement in Victor’s tone.

“It’s definitely both of us.”

Victor draped an arm over Yuuri’s side, lightly gripping his hip.  Even in his misery Yuuri basked in the casual intimacy of the touch.

“One of us should go get water,” Victor said.  He stared at Yuuri with a pleading look.  It almost worked, but then Yuuri leveled him with the most adorable, desperate, big-eyed gaze he could muster.  Victor crumpled faster than expected, which was to say instantly.

“Not fair.” Victor shook his head, winced at the motion, and threw himself from the bed with a heave.  He stumbled to the bathroom like a newborn elephant.

Yuuri kept his eyes closed until Victor returned and tapped a glass against his fingers.

“I’m going to spoil you rotten in this marriage whenever you look at me like that,” Victor muttered as he collapsed back on the mattress.

“You did say that you would in your vows.”  Yuuri took a big gulp of water to keep himself from mentioning how much Victor had cried during the ceremony.  He might have been embarrassed at the public display, if he hadn’t sobbed like a baby himself when Victor said, “I love you” in several languages in front of all of their friends and family.  He was the only one who knew how significant those words were.

“Yeah,” Victor sighed fondly.  He took the glass from Yuuri and chugged down half of it.  “I can’t believe we didn’t have sex.  It’s all I’ve thought about for months.”

Yuuri took back the water and drained the rest of it.  He dropped the glass on the floor next to the bed, not bothering to place it on the nightstand.

“We can do it when our hangovers wear off.”

“But it’s not the same.  It was supposed to be a special event.”

Yuuri frowned at the ceiling.  He tried to think but his mind was gummy.  It hurt to focus.

“We could do it on our honeymoon.”

Victor flopped toward him.  He threw an arm over his chest.  Yuuri’s stomach roiled as Victor plastered against him. 

“That sounds perfect.  We’ll wait ‘til the first night of our honeymoon.”

Yuuri didn’t really care when they did it or how special the circumstances were, but he was happy that Victor was satisfied.  Or at least as happy as he could be with the worst hangover of his young life.

“I think I need to take a shower,” Yuuri said.  “And maybe throw up.  Hopefully not in the shower but I’m open to the possibility.”

“May I join you?”

“Sure.”

 

 

“This is what I get for letting you plan the honeymoon,” Yuuri sighed as he dropped his bag to the floor.

He gazed out at the private pool and lush garden behind their tropical villa, shaking his head.  He could see the beach at the end of a short path, lined with palms.  Birds of paradise sung in the trees.  The sky was a pristine, brilliant blue.  “Do I even want to know how much this cost?”

“It wasn’t that bad.”  Victor snuck his arms around Yuuri’s waist and rested his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“By my standard or yours?”

Victor didn’t respond, which was an answer in itself.

Despite all the traveling he did for figure skating, Yuuri had never stayed anywhere like this.  Everything was light and open and expensive, designed for luxury.  He was surrounded by linen and bamboo, clean lines giving each detail a sense of flow and purpose.  And yet, though Yuuri was usually uncomfortable in the face of opulence, it still felt relaxing.  The sea breeze carried hints of tropical flowers and sun-warmed sand right into the house.  The villa didn’t impose on the natural landscape, but emulate it, honor it.  Most importantly, the privacy of having their own space meant Yuuri wouldn’t have to worry about social interaction.

It was a utopia, just for the two of them.

“Do you like it?” Victor whispered into his hair.

“You know I do.”

“Want to get changed and go for a walk on our beach?”

“ _Our_ beach?”

“For the next two weeks, anyway.”

Yuuri sighed, tipping his head to rest against Victor’s.  Though he was exhausted from the flight, logy in the wake of the anxiety traveling inflicted, he felt peaceful.

“Okay, but you’re wearing sunscreen,” he said.

“Looking after my complexion, husband?  How sweet.”

“I just don’t want to listen to you complain when you get sunburned.”

Victor’s affronted gasp was belied by the gentle kiss he gave to Yuuri’s temple.

 

Their day was leisurely, soft.  

Following a long walk on the beach with their hands linked, they cooled off in the pool, never separating.  Yuuri kissed Victor with fingers woven in damp hair, their bodies pressed together beneath the water.  It never turned heated.  By some unspoken understanding between them, they were taking their time.

“I didn’t know you had freckles,” Yuuri said, tracing the pad of his thumb across Victor’s cheek.  Victor adjusted his grip on Yuuri’s rear, pulling him even closer.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Oh, I’m going to tell everyone.  I’ll post it on my Instagram.  ‘This just in: Victor Nikiforov has freckles.  Hashtag: dorkonice.  Hashtag--”

Victor dunked him, instigating an all-out splashing war.  It didn’t stop until they were exhausted from laughing, having swallowed more pool water than was probably healthy.

“Alright, alright, I won’t tell a soul,” Yuuri panted, leaning against the pool wall and trying to catch his breath.  Victor’s hair was caked to his forehead.  He looked like a half-drowned cat.  “Come here and let me fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Victor squeaked.  He frantically fingered the sopping mess on his head.  Yuuri took pity on him.

“Nothing, I’m sorry.  You look elegantly disheveled, as always.  Just come here.”

Though he shot him a suspicious glare, Victor obediently swam over.  He pulled Yuuri close, nudging until he wrapped his legs around Victor’s waist again. 

Yuuri kissed him on his freckled nose.  He stealthily teased his hair back to normal.

After, it felt natural to take an outdoor shower together.  Though there were bamboo panels concealing them for the most part, there was a strange giddiness over being naked outside.  Yuuri was reminded of their first days in the onsen back home, when Victor would unabashedly flaunt his stupidly perfect figure.   

It seemed so long ago now.

“I hope a gardener or maid or something doesn’t see us out here,” Yuuri muttered, glancing over Victor’s shoulder.

“They won’t,” Victor turned Yuuri’s head back with a finger to his chin, recapturing his gaze.  “I asked the staff to leave us alone unless we ask for them.”

“Hoping you’ll get lucky?”  He leaned up to nip Victor’s bottom lip.  Blue eyes sparked in the sunlight.

“’Hoping’ isn’t the word.”

Victor reached behind Yuuri to pick up a bottle of soap.  He took his time washing the chlorine from Yuuri’s hair and the aches of a long flight from his body. 

“I’m not easy, you know,” Yuuri remarked without any seriousness as Victor licked the moisture from his neck.

“I am well aware.”

“I don’t take just any man to bed.”

“I have it on good authority that you only take _one_ man to bed, in fact.”

“Really?  Does this man have freckles?”

Victor’s head jerked back.  He glared down at Yuuri.

“No one has been able to prove that.”

“Because I think freckles are cute.”

It was amusing to watch Victor battle internally over Yuuri’s compliment.  He couldn’t seem to decide between being offended or flattered.  Eventually he must have settled on the latter, because he drew Yuuri close and rested his chin on his head.

 

They didn’t bring up their little sex agreement until they’d finished a nap on the shaded outdoor bed beside the pool.  Yuuri’s arm was draped over Victor’s side, his pelvis cupped to Victor’s rear.  He rocked against him until Victor started to stir and nudge back.  The light was orange on the horizon.  To Yuuri, Victor looked like he was glowing.

“I believe we had an arrangement,” Victor said, voice sleep-hoarse.  He gripped Yuuri’s hip to draw him closer.

“I was beginning to wonder if you forgot.”

“No you weren’t.”

Yuuri snorted.

“You’re just being less persistent than I expected.” 

“I can be patient.”

“Can you?”  Yuuri’s teeth found Victor’s neck.  He licked and bit until Victor’s pulse was pattering rabbit-fast against his lips.  

“Maybe not that patient,” Victor admitted breathily.

“We should continue this in bed.”  Yuuri wasn’t too thrilled about sporting an erection outside, no matter how certain Victor was that no one would see them.

“We are in a bed.”

“Doesn’t count.”

Victor groaned but didn’t argue.  They pushed to their feet.  Yuuri half-expected them to clash together, stumbling between kisses into the house, but their usual urgency was suspiciously absent.  It was hard to be nervous about anything in such a soothing place.  Time was slower.  They had nowhere they needed to be.

More importantly, for the first time Yuuri truly comprehended how much they’d committed to each other.  Their vows tempered something that had only ever burned before, quieting the voices that rendered everything dire and desperate. 

He took a warm, slow breath, and wasn’t anxious at all.

“Come on,” he said, threading their fingers together.  Yuuri tugged Victor along beside him, pausing occasionally to kiss the arch of his shoulder or card a hand through silver hair.

The master bed was enormous and downy, centered in a room adorned with several extravagant bouquets of flowers and palms.  The air was chilly from the A.C..  A full body shiver quaked through both of them. 

Facing him, Yuuri framed Victor’s face in his hands.  Their eyes met.

“Nervous?” Victor asked.  Yuuri licked his lip.

“No.  You?”

“Not really,” Victor said, not fooling anyone.  “I thought this would be like that night--when it was your first time.”

“But it isn’t quite the same.”

Victor shook his head.

“You married me.”

They were speaking between their words, eyes communicating in ways their mouths could not.

“I did.”

Yuuri slid his hand down Victor’s back.

“I want to be inside you,” Yuuri whispered, and was surprised when his cheeks didn’t burn.  Victor’s, however, flared pink from more than the sun.

“I—I want that too.”

“Sure you’re not nervous?” Yuuri teased with a smirk.  He tapped a finger to the sharp arch of Victor’s hot cheek.

“No, not at all, I’m—“  Yuuri arched an eyebrow.  Victor’s shoulders sagged.  “Of course I am, but not like I was that day.  It’s different.”

“How?  Tell me.”  Yuuri took a step into him, backing Victor up toward the bed.  Victor’s throat bobbed.  He stumbled a little.

“I’m not worried I’ll do something wrong.”

“Good,” Yuuri said.  The back of Victor’s knees hit the mattress and Yuuri encouraged him with a hand on his chest to sit and lie back.  “And?”  He waited until Victor’s head was nestled on a pillow before he climbed over him.  Bracing on his hands and knees, he held himself so they were barely touching.  Victor squirmed, fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I…I know you aren’t going anywhere,” Victor breathed.  He looked startled, like he hadn’t known the words were true until he’d spoken them.  “I know you’re not going to leave me.”

“Good.”  Yuuri gave a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, the tip of his nose.  Victor’s fingers finally found Yuuri’s hips.  He squeezed, trying to drag Yuuri closer but he didn’t budge.  Not yet.

“I’m nervous because of how you make me feel.”

“How do I make you feel?”

Victor’s blush crept down to his neck, his chest.  It was unusual for Yuuri to see him so ruffled, but not unwelcome.  It was nice to have a bit of a role-reversal.  He felt that familiar rush of power, of control, and wanted to push.

“I guess…exposed,” Victor answered.  Yuuri nuzzled his jaw, rewarding the honesty with a sucking kiss below Victor’s ear.  “But in a good way,” he added. 

“Mmm.”

Yuuri drew Victor’s earlobe between his lips and nibbled.  Victor’s breath caught.

“Vulnerable,” he said.  Gradually, Yuuri started to lower down onto his naked frame.  “But I like that too.  It makes me want more, want you as close as you can be.”

“Yes.”  Gradually, Yuuri gave his full weight to Victor, pressing them together.  Victor’s arms clenched around his back.  Their tongues met, pushing and curling.  Heat bloomed between them, fanned by Victor’s nervous energy.

“Turned on.  Ridiculously, stupidly turned on,” Victor said.

“Likewise.”

“And happy.  You make me so happy it hurts.”

Tilting up, Yuuri took in Victor’s expression.  His lips were parted, his skin flushed between his faint, new freckles.  Barely a sliver of blue was left in his dark eyes.

“I don’t want it to hurt,” Yuuri said.  He gently folded the hair away from Victor’s forehead; then he reached between their bodies.  Victor gasped when he took him in hand.  “I only want you to feel good.  That’s what you did for me my first time.”

“It’s not my first time.”

“Isn’t it?”

Victor’s eyes flickered back and forth between his.  His lips parted like he meant to speak but no words came.  He looked lost.  Overwhelmed.  Yuuri started stroking him.

“You’re not behaving how I thought you would,” Yuuri said, not unkindly.

“You’re about to fuck me.  How did you think I’d be?”

“Oh, I dunno’.  Bossy.  Confident.  Maybe you’d use some terrible pick-up lines on me again.”

“They’re not terrible--”

“Victor.”

Yuuri watched him draw a slow breath through his nose.  There was no point in masking anything when they were like this.  They were too close to hide.  Yuuri thumbed the petal-soft skin where he knew Victor was sensitive, and swore he could see his brain go offline for a second.

“Victor—”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, alright?!”

They both froze.

“You…what?” Yuuri said after a moment.   “Of course you know what you’re doing.  You always know what you’re doing with sex.”

Victor took a deep breath, trying to collect himself after his outburst.

“I don’t know how to do it this way…like this.”

Yuuri blinked.

“Uh, well, you take the—and you put it in the--”

“That’s not what I meant!”  Yuuri had never seen Victor so flustered.  If he didn’t still have his fingers around Victor’s cock he might have laughed.  Fortunately, he still had enough blood in his brain to know better. 

“I’m sorry.  What do you mean?  You can tell me.”

Yuuri kissed Victor’s cheek and watched some of the tension seep out of him.

“Every other time I’ve done this it was just sex,” Victor said, quiet.  “I didn’t feel anything, but with you I know it’s going to be so much more intense.  And I….I…”

“What?”

“I’m just really, really excited.”

Comprehension dawned on Yuuri.  The red cheeks, the trembling, the stuttering; it all made sense.

“Well, I guess you were right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You are like a blushing virgin.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It’s a little bit your fault.  Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yes, I just didn’t think it would be this bad.  You have no idea what you do to me when you take control like this.  The sound of your voice, the look in your eyes.  It’s overwhelming.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but preen a little, feeling a spike in his confidence, his power.

“So if you could,” Victor cleared his throat, “get on with it, that would be great.”

“Get on with it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“See, you are bossy.”

“I am not—”

Yuuri cut him off with a deep, scathing kiss.  Victor responded almost immediately, licking back into him until they were both shivering with desire.  They only parted for a moment so Yuuri could go to his bag.  When he returned, he folded Victor’s leg to his body and started to prepare him with slick fingers.  This was something they’d done many times before, though it always stopped at fingering.  Victor had never reacted as he was now.

His breath was coming in short, shuddering gasps; his eyes were wide with bewilderment.  He looked inundated. 

Yuuri decided that if Victor really wanted to feel like a virgin their first time doing this, he wasn’t going to hold back.  Victor, after all, was asking for it.  And if Yuuri was being honest, he still wanted a little payback for Victor’s antics over this stupid chastity vow.

“Do you feel this?” Yuuri said, circling the spot inside him that always made Victor’s toes curl.  “This is nothing compared to what you'll feel when I claim you.”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor choked.

“I’m going to ruin you for all other men, forever.”

“You’ve already done that.”

“You have no idea.  I’m going to make you unable to think of anything but me inside you, filling you.  You’re going to feel empty all the time, desperate for the moment when I decide you deserve to be fucked.”

“Holy shit.”  Victor’s eyes were impossibly wide, his mouth hanging open in shock and awe.  “I’ve never been so aroused in my life.”

“Really?” Yuuri whispered, putting the game on pause to check-in.

“Oh yeah.”

“Cool.”  Yuuri blinked, and his Eros character slid back into place.  “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.  God, yes.”

Yuuri slicked himself as Victor wrapped his legs around his waist, drawing him close.  Just as Yuuri went to line himself up, however, he felt his persona flicker.  He’d never done this before.  What if he messed up?  What if he didn’t live up to his words?  What if Victor was disappointed?

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyes darted up to Victor’s.  He found his coach looking back at him.  The trembling virgin was gone.

“Come here, baby.”

Releasing himself, Yuuri leaned down, bracing his forearms on each side of Victor’s head.  He stared at Victor, drinking up the calm, assuring gaze reflected back at him.  Victor grazed his thumb across Yuuri’s cheek.

“Kiss me,” Victor ordered.  The command shot straight to his core.  They kissed, hard and deep, as Victor's hand moved between their bodies.  He gripped Yuuri, stroked him a few sweet times, and lined him up.  “Push into me, darling.  Come on.  I’m ready for you.”

A small noise broke from Yuuri’s throat.  His eyes prickled.  He did as he was told.

At first, he was too overwhelmed to breathe.  Tight, wet heat surrounded him, held him.  It was too much.  Then his eyes locked with Victor’s, and everything changed.

Victor’s pupils were blown black, his lips parted.  The sharp fact of his shocked arousal, of how Yuuri had made him feel such a way, filled him with a rush of resolve.  Victor had never experienced this before.  It was Yuuri’s turn to take charge.

“Open for me, Victor,” he murmured.  “Let me inside you.”

Victor’s eyelashes fluttered.  His arms hooked around Yuuri’s back, fingers digging into his shoulders, as Yuuri bottomed out.

For a long moment he didn’t dare move, worried that he’d finish at the first thrust and earn the teasing he usually leveled at Victor.  Then he saw how flushed Victor’s skin was, how he was shaking.  Yuuri's eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

“Are you _close?_ ” he asked, disbelieving.

“I told you I was turned on!”

“But….I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“You’ve done plenty.  And don’t act like you aren’t close too.  I know what you look like when you’re about to come.”

Yuuri puffed out a deep breath, shaking his head.

“We are really bad at this,” he said.

“Matter of perspective.  Maybe we’re too good at it.”

Suddenly, a wicked idea sparked in Yuuri’s head.  Victor’s eyes narrowed.

“What," Victor said.

“I bet I can make you come before me.”

The challenge struck Victor exactly as Yuuri knew it would.  His eyes glinted.  His mouth set in a determined line. 

“You’re on, Katsuki.”

Then they were kissing: rough, biting, just on the right side of painful.  Yuuri rolled his hips, using every bit of rhythm and fluid flexibility his dancing experience afforded him.  Victor’s hands scrabbled at his back as he met every thrust with perfect technique and timing. 

Nothing was held back. 

Every single trick both of them had was called upon.  Yuuri murmured obscenities into Victor’s mouth, broken only by Victor’s declarations of praise and adoration.  Yuuri tilted Victor’s hips higher until he was hitting his sweet spot on every thrust.  Victor had the gall to slip a wet finger between Yuuri’s cheeks, circling even as he was being fucked.

Pleasure blazed through Yuuri.  It spooled out from his abdomen into every part of him.  He knew Victor felt the same since he had stopped trying to temper his moans.  Each clash of their bodies pulled startled noises out of them, until they couldn’t kiss in order to breathe.  Their eyes locked.

“I’m not that close,” Yuuri lied. 

“Me neither.  I could keep doing this all night.”  Victor’s words were broken by short little whines of pleasure.  His irises were entirely eclipsed by black.  Sweat beaded on his hairline.

“Me too.  I am definitely not about to come in the next ten seconds.”

“Good, because I---I’m coming.  Oh god, baby, I’m—”

Victor arched off the bed, head tipping back as warm wet ribboned between them.  Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s neck, unable to handle the sight of his husband conquered by bliss.  His orgasm seared through him; a blazing, complete release he felt down to his toes. 

Together they collapsed, Yuuri just managing to tumble to the side.  It was a long time before either of them caught enough breath to speak.

“I am officially not a virgin,” Victor announced, turning his head on his pillow to smile at Yuuri.  “And I consummated our marriage in the process.”

“Victor, I hate to break it to you, but you did _not_ just act like a virgin.”

“No?”

“No.  Not at all.”

“Guess that means I won,” Victor mumbled.

Yuuri pushed up on his forearms and glowered at him.

“You didn’t win.”

Victor wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You were probably too distracted by my non-virginal sexual prowess to notice,” he said casually, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging.

“To notice what; that you came all over me before I finished?”

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“I’m disagreeing to disagree.  You lost, Victor.  Just admit it.”

“I’m gonna’ call for room service,” Victor said, jumping to his feet and striding across the room.

“Hey!”  Yuuri scrambled off the bed.  Victor started running, laughing like an idiot.  Yuuri sprinted after him.  They weaved through the furniture, knocked over a lamp, and burst out into the yard.  “Get back here!  You are such a sore loser—”

Yuuri caught up to Victor just as he reached the edge of the pool.  He wasn’t expecting Victor to stop and turn to wink at him.

“I’m certainly a sore something since my husband just fucked me into the—”

Yuuri crashed right into him, sending them both flying into the water with a colossal splash. 

They broke the surface sputtering, clinging onto each other and fighting to get air, giggling hysterically.

“Say you lost,” Yuuri said at last, his arms and legs wrapped around Victor, trapping him close.  He tugged at Victor’s hair.  His face hurt from laughing.

“Alright, alright.  I lost.”

“Thank you.”  Yuuri pressed a kiss into Victor’s smile.  “See how easy it is when you just give me what I want?”

“I do.”

Victor’s eyes softened with those two simple words.  They were a promise, and a declaration, and a wish for the future.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said.  “I do too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE YOU NEXT LEVEL
> 
> And by "next level," I mean please feel free to check out my other YOI fics, including a one shot called [Puppy Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10540119) about Yuuri turning into a dog, and [Heartbreakers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10799523/chapters/23958507), in which Victor is dramatic (shocker). 
> 
> EDIT: By prompt request I wrote a teeny tiny additional scene for this fic [HERE](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/post/163577846820/prompt-for-you-more-of-yuuri-appreciating#notes), in which Victor definitely still does not have freckles.
> 
> This fic has given me the most positive fandom and writing experience I've ever had. Your kindness and support got me through one of the hardest struggles I've ever endured, and I will adore you forever for it. I'd love to hear from you in the comments or at [my tumblr](http://rageofthenerd.tumblr.com/), since I officially already consider you my friend.
> 
> I hope this fic brought you joy, maybe a few cathartic tears, and encouraged you to try crème brûlée ice cream (it's my favorite). 
> 
> Special thanks to: plaidshirtjimkirk, victuurificrec, beautifulfiction, braveten, mereth, therebewhaleshere, fullmetalchords, ishxallxgood, twolittlehummingbirds, andrea_christa_h, rosenox98, narue_nara_chan, kanoitrace, geminisuns, fem-helios, belovedstill, mamakat926, brewingandbrooding, vehemenett, evakaname, misslovegood, saniika, nerdalay, chessala, littleloststar, wendy_bird, captaincuppy, crystaldeer, tessap, echizenryomalover, sintina, mojobaby75, till-kingdom-come, peaceloveshay, and absolutely anyone who has commented or sent me messages. I'm sorry if I missed your name here (I already know I'm omitting some super epic people)!


End file.
